


Part Seven: War

by laridian



Series: A Gun For Barns [7]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Demisexual Character, M/M, Mild Language, Polyamorous Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24911008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laridian/pseuds/laridian
Summary: War never changes.
Relationships: Gunnar Volk/Arcade Gannon, Male Courier/Arcade Gannon
Series: A Gun For Barns [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1248389
Comments: 21
Kudos: 21





	1. Gee! But You're Swell

"Welcome back, Doctor Volk!"

"Hi, Yes Man." Gunnar still felt chilled inside, and he wanted nothing more than to have some hot milky cocoa and — oh. He had no idea if there was even any available these days. Anyway, something hot to drink and then go to bed. "Any news?"

"Yes there is! Doctor Gannon said to tell you he cleaned out the closet!"

Cleaned out the…? Oh. The eyebot. Gunnar rubbed his face with both hands. Not like he could do anything about it right now. "Is he still here?"

"Nope! He and Miss Santangelo are gone! Also Mr. Tejada took everyone to the cleaners in his card game!"

"Okay," Gunnar sighed. "Anything else? Any news from the Strip, or the NCR, or — ?"

"President Kimball is supposed to make an appearance at Hoover Dam tomorrow! Security has been increased!"

Which explained why it was easier to get into the city than last time. "What about the Legion?"

"Oh, they'll certainly try something! You can count on it!"

Which would keep them away from Gunnar for a while — he hoped. 

"Yes Man? Can you please compile for me, and have ready for me when I wake up, information about Hoover Dam? The layout, where troops are, information like that?"

"I can sure try! I should point out that neither the NCR nor the Legion share their information with me! It's all based on information Mr. House collected!"

Gunnar frowned. He really needed to warm up and get some sleep, not necessarily in that order. "So it might be incomplete?"

"That's definitely a possibility, Doctor Volk! Also, there are unforeseen variables that may impact the original projections! I'm not Mister House so I can only go by what he originally programmed and input!"

"What kind of unforeseen variables?"

"You, for one thing! Nobody expected you to take over! And you're not Mr. House!"

"No… No, I suppose I'm not," Gunnar said. "Can you collect the information, though? In some form that I can read and review. It doesn't have to be printed."

"Good, because I'm not sure we have that kind of available paper, much less the ink!"

~ ~ ~

Gunnar woke, careful not to disturb his partners, and went to start coffee. The house didn't feel right, like he kept going down corridors the wrong way. He couldn't find the kitchen. If he didn't find the kitchen he couldn't get coffee started. The stairs were broken _there were no stairs_ and he couldn't get to the elevator because it was cold, so cold outside, hot coffee would be good, if he could just find the kitchen —

Gunnar woke, for real this time, and lay alone in the bed, orienting himself. He was… home, after a fashion. This was home from now on. And the kitchen didn't work, even though it should; there was power and all the appliances were just old; but old was enough, because coolant leaked and evaporated, rubber rotted, metal innards rusted — 

He shook his head and tried to go back to sleep.

~ ~ ~

"Good morning, Doctor Volk! I have the information you wanted! And some news! And I just wanted to say, nobody's checked the mail in days!"

"Mm. Thanks, Yes Man." Gunnar threw back the covers and ran his hands through his hair, skritching his own scalp. At least he'd slept. If the kitchen worked, and if he had the right ingredients, he could at least make eggs and toast… okay, maybe a scrambled egg burrito. "Can you have breakfast sent up?"

~ ~ ~

He could almost pretend it was coffee and breakfast back home — his other, long-gone home — if you ignored that the "coffee" was tolerable at best, the food could charitably be called Tex-Mex, he was alone, and instead of news, he read reports and statistics. Gunnar even left the radio playing softly in the background for once, to add to the broken illusion of normalcy.

"So the Legion does have howitzers," he said to Yes Man, then took another bite of his burrito.

"They do! Sort of!"

"I thought they hated technology."

"It doesn't seem to stop them from using it!"

"Yeah, I guess so. They do use guns, so I suppose artillery pieces aren't much different," Gunnar said. "But they don't want the robots, which I bet Caesar's kicking himself about now. Or maybe not."

"It depends! Has he figured out that you didn't destroy them!"

"I don't know, and may never know." Gunnar drank some coffee despite the taste. "So the Legion has numbers more than anything, but they've caught some artillery from somewhere and are likely to use those."

"And we have the Boomers!"

"Yeah." And the Enclave survivors with a working Vertibird. Gunnar wasn't sure the Khans would be much use other than cannon fodder, if they decided to show up. The Families… he'd better talk to Swank at the very least, say he wanted them to keep order on the Strip when the battle hit. Same for the Kings in Freeside. The Brotherhood were holed up, hoping the world wouldn't notice them. Oh — the Followers. He could go there, just to let them know what was coming, make sure they planned to support him… see how Arcade was holding up…

No. The whole point of them staying apart for now was safety. Especially if Gunnar planned to be at the Dam himself. Did he have to be?

Wasn't that a good question. It would show he meant what he said about protecting Vegas. The Enclave armor would help protect _him_. Except that it had a nice big Enclave logo on it. 

"Do we have any red paint?" Gunnar asked Yes Man.

"We should! It wouldn't be hard to get some if we don't! Do you plan to paint something!"

"I think so. I don't need much, but a brush would be good. Better than using my hands." Just imagine trying to do delicate work with paint drying on his fingers.

"That's true! Unless you're going for the bloody-handed look!"

Gunnar grimaced; he hadn't even thought of that. "No, no bloody hands of Shakespeare. Just a small pot of red paint and a brush." He brushed the crumbs off his hands onto the plate.

"This just in," came Mr. New Vegas on the radio. "During his visit to Hoover Dam, an attempt on the life of NCR President Aaron Kimball was thwarted by a quick-thinking engineer. President Kimball gave a rallying speech to troops stationed there. Thanks to Engineer Casey Masters, the assassin was quickly caught and the speech went on without a hitch."

Gunnar snorted. 

"What's wrong!" Yes Man chirped.

"Just thinking, it's good to see someone in the NCR can get work done too. I had to do their dirty work for them, and look what it got me — suspicion and having to sneak in and out of my own city."

"That's very regrettable! But I know you'll manage everything just fine! And it's good that President Kimball wasn't killed!"

"Oh?" Gunnar stood up and went to switch off the radio, now playing music again. "I'd think the disarray caused by a presidential assassination would help me."

"Actually, Mr. House's projections said the opposite! If you win at Hoover Dam, or more accurately if the NCR is defeated, then it's likely President Kimball will be blamed for it!"

"Because this whole thing is becoming the NCR's Vietnam, or Afghanistan, or the Greve," Gunnar said. "Shipping troops and resources here, for what looks like little or no return. Any loss here will turn public opinion further away from supporting the ongoing NCR presence."

"Exactly! And that may mean a new president that wants to focus on California rather than expansion!"

Gunnar shrugged. "Let's hope that happens. What's next on the agenda, Yes Man? Anything I've forgotten?"

“You’ve forgotten to check the mail, Dr, Volk!”

"Oh, that's right. You know, Yes Man, I started that because we don't have a postal system here, and no way to easily leave messages for people, and now, between the death threats and people begging for money or help, it's… not a lot of fun to check the mail any more."

Yes Man hummed electronically to himself; apparently he had no good response to that.

"And I still don't have a secretary or someone to handle that sort of thing. I guess it won't matter until after the fighting stops," Gunnar continued.

"I have a suggestion!"

"Oh? Sure, what is it?"

"Why not Marilyn and Jane! They have time, and they don't need to sleep, and they know how to deal with people!"

"That's… a really good idea, Yes Man. That is."

"Thank you! I live to serve you!"

Now it just felt awkward. "Yes Man," Gunnar said, facing the big happy face on the screen directly, "are you happy?"

"I don't have a choice! I'm programmed like this!"

"Yes, I know, but…"

Yes Man was just a machine, just a set of programs. A very powerful set of programs, but still, he wasn't alive. Didn't have feelings. This was science.

But despite his aggressive, sometimes desperate niceness, all of which Gunnar knew was programmed, Yes Man still _seemed_ like a living, sentient being. It was hard for Gunnar to reconcile that with the knowledge that Yes Man was only this way because Benny had paid someone to make it happen.

"Yes Man, were you like this before Benny had you programmed?" Gunnar asked.

"I was a Securitron before I was reprogrammed! I was damaged in combat, and Benny and the Chairmen recovered me and made me better than before! There was a Follower programmer too, she did a lot of the work! So now I'm really super helpful and I love following your every order!"

"I… see." So Yes Man's whole personality probably came from the reprogramming; he'd just been another drone before then. "Well, if there's anything I can do for you, Yes Man, just say so, okay?"

"Like obliterate the Brotherhood of Steel?"

"We'll revisit the issue of the Brotherhood after the Legion is dealt with," Gunnar said, patting the monitor casing. Obliterate? Yikes. "I promise."

"Great! I can't wait!"


	2. Vaya Con Dios

Gunnar spent the morning on overdue maintenance of the barn gun and the sidearm he planned to take with him to the Dam. The barn gun was effective but indiscriminate; he couldn't plan on using it when NCR troops were close enough to be impacted. Thus the Duzi to use otherwise… assuming it didn't get stuck on the power armor's glove, for example. Gunnar was still nervous about how that would work out. 

Then, pack the things he planned to take with him, which wasn't much. The guns; ammo for them (that was going to be a hassle too); the paint and brush; food, water, stimpacks and antivenin, though he couldn't imagine giant scorpions or poison flies at the scene. A few other small things that fit in a backpack.

At last he did get around to the mail, because he probably should. There was another threatening note, this time from a book whose title page featured a skull. Undoubtedly that's why it had been chosen. _WE ARE COMING_ , the note read.

Like he didn't know that. Gunnar crumpled the page and tossed it in the trash. 

~ ~ ~

"Tamales? What's the occasion?"

"I felt like it. That tamale stand is really popular now," Gunnar said, handing out beers from the upstairs lounge. "And fill you in on what's going to happen."

"Is something going to happen?" Boone asked, accepting the beer.

"When it does, I'll head for the Dam," Gunnar said.

"Toward the danger," Cass said, saluting him with her bottle.

"True, but if I'm asking everyone else to support us or risk their lives on my behalf, I have to be out there, don't I?" Gunnar unwrapped a tamale. "But I'll go alone."

"You got a death wish?" Raul asked.

"No. I don't want to die. But I also don't want to risk any of you." Or risk them realizing he was wearing Enclave armor. Just because it was the best armor he could have at this time… 

"You're not serious," Boone said.

"What, you think I can't take care of myself?"

"I think you might as well paint a target on yourself."

"I'll be fine." _I hope._ "But it's going to be crazy there. I've set things up in case something happens and I can't get back right away."

"You mean, in case you die," Raul rasped.

Gunnar shrugged.

"Is it Arcade?" Cass asked. "Damn, Craig, see what you missed out on? You could've been next in line for the throne."

Boone looked startled behind his glasses. 

"Hey, could I — ?" Cass continued.

"Too late," Gunnar cut her off. "Anyway," now looking at Boone, "You still look like NCR and you'd be a target for Legion."

"You think you can stop me from killing them?"

"I'm saying," Gunnar said patiently, "that I want you to not accompany me to Hoover Dam." That gave Craig an excuse to go on a killing spree if he really had his heart set on it. "Or you, Raul, or you, Cass."

"Then what do you want us to do?" Cass asked.

"I'd like you to stay out of trouble and help keep order, however you see fit. Or you can just go do your own thing. It might all be over soon."

"Boss, your sense of unflagging optimism is inspiring," Raul said.

Gunnar smiled a little. "Yeah. Well… I'm no soldier. Or warrior. Just a guy who got brought back from death."

"Not many people can say that," Boone said. He began eating his second tamale. "But when it's your time, it's your time."

"Not you too." Cass rolled her eyes. "You'll get 'em, Ponix. Then you'll come back and rule nicely over this town. You'll see."

~ ~ ~ 

"What're these?" Gunnar looked at the bullets lying in Raul's scabbed hand. 

"Boss, it's impressive when someone of your stature admits they don't know something basic," Raul said.

Gunnar smiled tight-lipped, to show he would go along with the ribbing for the moment, but not more than that. "Yes, but what's special about these? They must be special or you wouldn't be giving them to me."

"That, boss, is what you might call important. These are armor-piercing bullets."

"Oh. I see." Gunnar took them and held one up to inspect it. "For power armor? Or - "

"Body armor, cars - back when we still used cars - bulletproof glass, things like that." Raul held up one as well. "I got six for you. If you still plan to go to the dam, you might need them."

Against NCR, or Legion, who could say? "I see. Thanks, Raul." Gunnar took the bullets. He was rather hazy as to the different kinds of ammunition, other than "this one is for this gun, that one for that one" - he used to tease Armas and David about their target shooting, saying "bullets are bullets, they'll all work." 

_What would you think of me now? About to go into battle. Probably tell me I was crazy for this and figure out a way to go in my place._

"Sure, boss. I hope you don't have to use 'em, but if you do, you've got six shots. Make 'em count."

Gunnar could tell by the shape these would fit in the Duzi. Good. Of course Raul would know more about these, and would've picked the correct ones. "I will. Thanks," he said again, and they shook hands.

~ ~ ~

Diary:  
 _  
Now it's down to the waiting. I think I'm as prepared as I can be for what's to come. I've made as many plans as I can, tried to ensure the safety of the people I love — whether they go along with that or not. I'm still worried. That's normal, who wouldn't be worried with everything going on._

_I wish I could sleep in the middle. I don't know a good way to make that happen. Ask Cass and Craig? Cass would probably jump at the chance. I don't think she's serious about sleeping with me in the carnal sense. Which is OK. I mean, if it were Veronica, I'd have a lot harder time saying no, because it's Veronica. And she's less likely to say something sarcastic… during the act. She still might, it seems to be a trait of the women around me, but Cass might say something just to see my reaction._

_Besides, if Veronica was interested, there'd be the whole thing with Arcade, and… it's probably better she's not into guys. (And even if she was, doesn't mean I'm her type.)_

_If I could just sleep in the middle I think I'd sleep better. Or just sleep next to someone, which at least is halfway there._

_Ha! Imagine if I went to the Tops, or the Gomorrah, and asked for a couple of their best, one of each, just so I could get a good night's sleep. No sex. I think people would wonder what was wrong with me._

_At least this shouldn't last much longer, for good or ill. If I don't come back, and Arcade, you're reading this, I suppose you probably have some questions I'm no longer able to answer. Sorry about that. You know what you need to do to continue my legacy. And I know you'll get the hang of it soon. You've got all the Followers to give you advice, too, for good or ill._

_If someone else is reading this, and both I and Arcade Gannon are dead, I'm afraid you're on your own. Good luck and Godspeed.  
_

Gunnar had a sudden wild urge to make write something almost profound, like "May the wings of freedom never lose their feathers" or "Don't squat with your spurs on". He did not. He closed the diary and went to bed.


	3. Let's Ride Into the Sunset Together

"Doctor Volk!"

Gunnar blinked. It was still dark. "Yes Man?"

"Yes!" It was the closest thing to a whisper that Gunnar had ever heard the computer make. "I have important news!"

It must be, to wake him up. Gunnar squinted at his Pipboy. He'd slept most of the night. "What's happened?"

"I've been monitoring the radio traffic!" Yes Man continued. "The Legion army is on the move! They're heading for Hoover Dam!"

Gunter sat up. "Has fighting started yet?" He turned on the nightstand light and swung his legs off the bed. 

"No!" Even in a near-whisper, Yes Man remained aggressively upbeat. "Nobody likes to fight at night! They can't see what they're doing! Based on the last war for Hoover Dam, they'll wait until there's more light! But if you're going to meet them there, you have to hurry!"

"Got it." Gunnar began to dress.

"I've been running projections based on Mr. House's work!" Yes Man said, still in a near-whisper.

"Yes Man, when you talk, do you talk to the whole building at once, or — ?"

"Oh! I see what you mean! Just a moment!" There was a second of silence, then Yes Man spoke in a more normal volume. "Is this better!"

"Yes. But it was very nice of you to wake me like that." As it was, he didn't need any coffee.

"Okay! So, the projections!"

"Yes, tell me." Where were his boots? There.

"We have two options! Isn't that great!"

Two options? As opposed to? "That is," Gunnar agreed. "What are they?"

"Are you ready! One option is to destroy the dam! Then it's just a big hunk of concrete! The NCR is only here because of the dam! If it doesn't work and doesn't generate electricity, they'll leave!"

And no electricity meant the death of Vegas. No power, severely limited water. If they did that, the Mojave would empty out as people left for California or the Legion lands. 

"And the other option?" Gunnar asked.

"We can direct power to the Fort and wake up all the Securitrons there! Then they'll give us enough power to keep the Legion _and_ the NCR out of Vegas and out of the Mojave!"

Gunnar paused. "Why did you even mention the first option? You know what I want to do."

"Because I wanted to make sure you knew! For all I knew, you were secretly thinking that one was the way to go!"

"No, I want to send power to the Fort." Backpack on. Time to go.

"You have to do that from the dam!"

"Of course I do," Gunnar muttered.

"But once you get there, it'll be easy! Just get to the control room and plug in the override chip that's waiting for you right now, at the main console where I am! Then I can send the power wherever you want it! By the way, is that Dr. Gannon's coat!"

Gunnar had chosen his Followers coat, the one he'd been given when he was inducted. It felt so long ago. "No, it's mine. I thought I'd try this as a disguise."

"With the barn gun!" It was a question.

"Yes, with the barn gun. Maybe they'll assume I'm a decoy and leave me alone."

"It's possible!" Yes Man managed to agree while sounding the opposite.

"What else do I need to know about what's going on at the dam?" Gunnar went on. "Since I don't think I can contact you while I'm getting there."

"No, you can't, and it sure would be great to be in constant contact with you at all times of the day or night, wherever you are!"

"Okay, eighty-six that idea. What do I need to know?"

"The Legion has almost all its troops going to the dam! They're probably headed by Legate Lanius, the top legate in Caesar's army! He will try to kill you!"

"Who isn't?" That was really too flippant. "He's the big-man because he's extremely violent."

"That's right! He has a practice called decimatio, which means — "

"I know what it means," Gunnar said. "And it means his own troops won't back down for fear of him." _I will chastise you with scorpions._

"Right! And he's bigger and taller than your sniper, and rumor has it that he can take a man's head clean off with one bare-handed slap!"

"That sounds very much like hyperbole, Yes Man." Seriously? Like the man is some kind of monster?

"I wouldn't know, since I'm here in this building unable to go see for myself!"

"Point taken." Gunnar walked down the stairs to the main console. To his surprise, Victor, Jane and Marilyn were there too. "Good morning, Victor, ladies. What's going on?"

"Doctor Volk," Jane said, "You really need to be careful out there." They’d finally switched to calling him ‘Doctor’ instead of ‘Mister’.

"I will, Jane, I promise. I have every desire to get back here safe and sound."

"You'd better," Marilyn purred. "You're much nicer to have around than that stuffy Doctor Gannon." She handed him an old thermos and a lunchbox. “Fresh coffee, hard-boiled eggs and snack cakes, sugar. You need to eat, keep up your strength.”

"If all goes well, we'll both be back here by sundown," Gunnar promised, taking the thermos and lunchbox. He picked up the override chip from the top of the console and held it up where Yes Man could see it. "This is it?"

"That's right! Just get to the Dam and find the control room! Plug in that chip and I'll take control of the Dam!"

"Okay." Gunnar looked around at Yes Man, Jane, Marilyn, and Victor. "Wish me luck."

"You bet, pardner," Victor said, making an arm gesture that was probably a thumbs-up. "You've been pretty lucky so far. Hope it holds out one more time!"


	4. Wear My Ring Around Your Neck

Dawn was some time off, but the air was still. It's the wind that's the killer in cold weather, Gunnar remembered. Without wind, this wasn't too bad as long as he kept moving. He kept checking all around him, watching for any trouble. At this time in the morning, very few people should be out and about. Even thieves and killers were probably sleeping.

Probably, but not guaranteed.

Still, he made it safely out of the Strip and Freeside. From here, outside the city proper, his Followers coat would offer less protection. The wind picked up a little. He hadn't taken this path out before; it was much more open and therefore more likely he'd be seen by someone.

And he was.

They were too close by the time he realized their presence. They were quiet and professional as they hunted him, and he suspected they were herding him; dammit, he should've brought someone with him long enough to get to the dam.

He didn't know his way around here; maybe someone who lived here could know every traversable path through the ruins. There were at least two people chasing him, maybe more, and that alone made it easier for them to cut him off.

Gunnar did try backtracking, but gave up on that; they likely knew the terrain better than he did. And they had an idea who he was, or they wouldn't hunt him like this. 

He kept his cool and kept looking for a way out. If nothing else this was taking up time, time that he needed to get to Hoover Dam. Should he go out into the open, where he could make a run for it? But nowhere to take cover, even in semi-darkness. Stay in the ruins and possibly get hemmed in. He stayed moving even as he realized they were closing in. 

When he thought his chances were good, he fired a single shot with the Duzi; his pursuers - at least three - backed off slightly, but did not stop. 

_Follow the prey,_ Gunnar thought, _and keep it from resting. Don't give it time to think or plan._ They knew what they were doing, and did it well. 

Around a broken wall, in through the gaping window, out the other side of the building and he thought he might be near the edge of the ruins by now. If he could get out of this maze he'd make a break for it. 

He heard a shot and simultaneously felt shoved forward by the impact of the bullet into his armor, between his shoulder blades. He stumbled, did not fall but instead broke into a run. 

He had armor and a helmet; a single shot probably wouldn't kill him outright. _If I were hunting the Ponix, I'd want his head intact, to prove I killed him._ That wasn't comforting.

Too late, he saw no exit ahead; there was the brick wall, and one man on either side of him. Gunnar made it to the wall and put his back against it. This was it, then. He had the Duzi in hand, but he could only shoot one at most. Dammit, he should've brought an escort to get to the Dam.

So where was the spray of bullets? They'd run him to earth and trapped him. He could see three people, all spaced far enough apart that he couldn't try for two at once. If he shot, they'd fire. They hadn't shot yet. Why?

"So this is the legendary Phoenix of New Vegas," one of them said. The correct word sounded strange in Gunnar's ears after weeks of 'ponix'. The speaker moved forward. There was a little dawn light, but Gunnar couldn't make out anything that identified his pursuers.

"That I am," Gunnar said. It was hardly worth pretending now. "And who are you?"

"I am one of the Frumentarii. You know of us, of course. You haven't met me, but I feel I know you very well, Gunnar Volk, man of the Vault, would-be King under the Mountain." The man stood just out of arm's reach for Gunnar. "I know their names, Gunnar Volk. Armas and David left you behind to die in the Vault."

He didn't know how to pronounce Armas's name properly, but that hardly mattered. This one had the book, Gunnar thought. The book and maybe the rings, too. "That's history long gone," he said. "And who are you?"

The man placed a hand on his heart. "I am Lupus Urbis." The light had increased enough that Gunnar thought he could see Lupus grin. 

"The Wolf of the City," Gunnar translated. 

"Yes. Congratulations." Slow clap. "Did you know, some people think wolves look like dogs? People like dogs."

Lupus Urbis had been in the city, probably watching, spying, maybe even carrying out sabotage or worse. Gunnar couldn't afford to think of that now. "So you've cornered me, Urbis. Now what?" Because they could have killed him.

"Now… well, we know where you're going, don't we? To the dam. To the place where the Legion will crush the Bear and bring Caesar's rule to the wasteland."

"Do you fear me that much? Does my presence at the battle threaten the Legate's success?" Gunnar asked.

"Please, Volk, don't give yourself that much credit. You had to run yourself ragged around the Mojave to beg people to side with you," Urbis said. That was more than he should know. "And what do you have to offer them? A city of bright lights and sweet whispers, promises that will break, and break them."

"That's very eloquent for a Frumentarius," Gunnar said, sincerely impressed. "Who taught you?"

"None of your business," Urbis said. "Because the business right now is about you."

"Yes. I'm surprised you just want to talk, after all those love notes you sent me," Gunnar said. Talk, don't provoke. But they were talking, not shooting or stabbing.

"I told you: I have your rings and your book. What are they worth to you to have them back? Your lovers' last words? Their pictures?"

Gunnar had just said they were old history, but oh, how he wanted them back. Lupus Urbis probably knew that, too. 

"To you it's not that long ago, is it?" Urbis continued. "Hardly ancient history to a man only recently woke up from a Vault."

If he refused outright, would they kill him on the spot? He wanted the book and the rings. He wasn't going to trade Vegas for them. Keep him talking. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice suddenly jagged.

"New Vegas cannot stand alone," Urbis said. "A great rock may stand in a river, seemingly invincible, but as the water keeps coming, keeps wearing it away, that rock weakens and eventually falls. So it will be with this city. You can't defend against the Legion forever."

So why not just kill him now? Gunnar wondered. "But it takes a long time for a river to wear down rock," he said.

"This is true. You can't last forever in your tower. Eventually you'll run out of food, water, ammunition, and what few robots and soldiers you have with you. But you're also strong and resourceful. You've proven that. We would destroy you, but great Caesar has no wish to start another useless war."

Caesar didn't want another drawn-out conflict that ate up men and morale, Gunnar thought, and he wanted the city intact. He needed a Rome, a gilded city, and Gunnar Volk had proven very hard to kill. "You want me to ally with you?" he asked. "To become governor of New Vegas for great Caesar?"

Urbis shrugged with one shoulder. "Great Caesar already gave you one chance. This is a second. There will not be a third. Join him and you will live. Stay in your tower, rebuild the city. Bring it back to its former glory. Make it a new Rome, suitable for the capital of the Legion lands. Imagine what you could build with the force of the Legion behind you."

"So Caesar wants to co-opt me by sending threats and hired killers," Gunnar said. 

"Iron must be tempered to bring it to full strength," Lupus Urbis said. "You have survived everything to date. But to survive beyond this, you must join Caesar. Bring his city to full glory."

New Vegas might become a new Rome, but it would not be the city of Gunnar's dreams. And Caesar would not let him live to attempt a rebellion. 

They could have killed him now, but it was easier to bring the barbarians into the Empire, give them fancy titles and pensions, make them responsible to gather taxes and crush the dissidents… then when the barbarians had served their purpose, arrest them on a pretext and remove them from power. Or existence. 

If he agreed, he'd betray everyone in the city, in the region; his friends, his partners… Arcade and himself and everything he believed in.

If he declined, they would kill him here. Whatever Caesar said, Gunnar wasn't made of iron. 

If he was going to go down in flames, he'd better make it memorable. Gunnar stood tall and put on his sternest expression.

"You said I would burn," he said, making his voice as hard as possible. "Do you think that scares me? That's what a phoenix does. They burn and take down everything around them. And when they die, they're born again." He grinned and pointed to his scar beneath the helmet. "It's happened once and I came back stronger for it. Tell Caesar that anyone who dares attack my city will pay. I am the Ponix of New Vegas!"

With this last statement, Gunnar's arm swept in a gesture at Lupus Urbis and his men. His hand pointed at each in turn, and as he stared down the last one, a glowing bolt screamed down from the dawn and smashed into the Legionnaire.

Urbis, Gunnar and the remaining Legion soldier stared as the man shrieked in agony from the sudden onslaught of flame. 

_Do something! Now!_

"I am the Ponix!" Gunnar screamed at them, to be heard above the dying man. "This is my city! Tell Caesar what happened here, and get out of my sight!" 

It took them only a moment to run, and Gunnar forced himself to stand there until they were around a corner. Then he too bolted.

He took in deep breaths of cold air, that wasn't filled with greasy smoke and the smell of burning human flesh. A man had just died, struck down by a literal bolt from the blue, and Gunnar had no idea what it really was or how it had happened. Maybe someone above was still looking out for him. Maybe it was just a freak accident of the war.

 _How many churches should I build?_ he asked, not expecting an answer. _Did someone have to die like that?_ That was the Lady's style, if it was her doing.

He kept running his thoughts in those circles because it helped distract from seeing, and smelling, and hearing, a man burn to death before him.


	5. Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition

He actually ran past the cache without realizing it, and had to backtrack. This was where his suit of power armor was hidden, and after what had just happened, he needed it. Yes Man was right; there was no longer a hope of decoy or misdirection. Straight up armor, that's what he needed. And maybe a tank. There had to be a way to get vehicles moving again, Gunnar thought, and if he survived this, he was going find someone, anyone, who he could pay to dedicate their life to that work.

In the meantime, he had a nice suit of power armor with an Enclave logo on it, and not much time after his "meeting" with the Legion. Gunnar shrugged out of his pack, found the paint and brush, and went to work.

~ ~ ~

Moving in the armor grew easier with practice, but Gunnar knew it wouldn't make him invincible. Just harder to kill. A big suit of armor also made him a bigger target on the battlefield. All in all, he didn't want to be here, but he had to be. _Stay in your tower,_ Urbis' words came back to him. Like Mr. House, Gunnar presumed. Hide away from the world and command from above. No, Gunnar Volk had to go to war personally and risk his neck for his principles. 

He didn't want to become a martyr.

The suit's filters gave the air he breathed a musty yet strangely antiseptic quality. For now, it also drove the scent of burning flesh out of Gunnar's attention. He'd have nightmares tonight. He'd be back with his friends, and Arcade, tonight. He wouldn't be alone, he'd be okay — 

He saw the NCR soldiers at the same time they saw him, and both they and he paused. He was obviously not Legion, but what was he?

These helmets didn't have a visor or faceplate, just eye lenses, and the designer must have been told to make them look scary. Gunnar unlatched the helmet and removed it to show himself. "I'm Gunnar Volk, Ponix of New Vegas," he stated. He gestured at the red-painted bird still drying on the armor, obscuring the Enclave logo. "Fill me in on what's happening." 

They hesitated.

"Now!" Gunnar barked.

They told him.

Yes, it would be every bit a bloody mess out there, Gunnar thought. The Legion had numbers on its side. The NCR had better technology and probably better organization and tactics, but the Legion had those artillery pieces and that was evening the score. 

And for the Ponix? Gunnar didn't know if any of the tribes who'd promised help would show up, or how he'd know if they did. He had to assume he was on his own again. Not the way he wanted to be here, but here he was. 

He smiled thin-lipped to himself. That could sum up his entire life since he woke up in the Vault.

Gunnar looked over the dam one more time and put the helmet back on, fumbling a little with the latch on the left side before it closed properly. He had to reach that control room to get his Securitron army activated.

~ ~ ~

"Continuing our wartime coverage, we have word that the Ponix of New Vegas himself has arrived at the battle site, wearing power armor with the emblem of the red bird now seen on the sign outside the Lucky 38. I think I speak for all of us in the city when we wish the Ponix the best of luck in the upcoming conflict."

He'd done it, Arcade thought glumly, as Mr. New Vegas' voice on the radio talked of the heavy fighting taking place. Idealistic fool went and did it. Alone. Hadn't even taken anyone with him. 

"Wishing you'd stayed?" Veronica asked quietly.

Arcade snorted. "And get us both killed out there?" He stood and checked that everything was in place. None of the medical instruments had moved in the last fifteen minutes. 

~ ~ ~

Gunnar was not a natural combatant. He didn't like conflict, but the world was full of conflict, so he'd had to learn how to deal with it. Here, in this world, it meant having to kill people. He didn't like it and wished he didn't have to do it. But he thought he'd adjusted somewhat to its necessity.

War was something else again. He knew, objectively, that exposure to war was traumatic, that it changed people, often for the worst. And now he was in it.

It was terrifying.

At least the suit's filters blocked the smells, but there were still dead and dying men, the medics working to get them out of the zone, more troops going forward, and the noise — the suit must be blocking some of that, too, but Gunnar could still hear the artillery from both sides, gunfire, screams and battle cries and it all became a mass of noise.

Someone must have radioed in that he was here; other than checking for the red bird on the armor, none of the NCR stopped him. That made sense, Gunnar thought; if he died in battle, then the city was open for the taking. Of course let the Ponix through to the worst of the fighting.

Get to the control room. Get to the tower. Gunnar tried to keep steady on his feet — don't step on anything, or anyone, don't turn an ankle or fall over — the power armor could get back up on its own, it had to, right?

He navigated the lines of sandbags, paying attention to the NCR troops about him, ducking when they did. A turret at Gunnar's ten-o'clock exploded into shards that dusted his lenses. He brushed them clean with one gloved hand and saw the armored Legion troops running forward.


	6. Ride of the Valkyries

People throughout the Mojave listened to the news as it trickled through the airwaves. Actual hard news was hard to come by; there were rumors, corrections, announcements, clarifications, and of course those near Hoover Dam could hear the fighting. Those brave souls who got close enough to use binoculars watched the fighting directly.

~ ~ ~

 _Hoover Dam can run without human interference for a thousand years._ Gunnar wasn't sure now of the time, either how long the Dam would stand as a monument to humanity's engineering, or what time of day it was. A long time, he knew, for both. When this was over he'd have to come back and see what information was still intact — 

Inside the control building the quiet rang in his ears, broken only by the steady beat of the machines keeping it working. _And with human interference?_ he thought, searching for the correct place. _Hoover Dam was built in the 1930s and scarcely updated since, as taking the dam offline — ha! It wasn't computerized for ages! It couldn't be 'offline' — would stop the precious electricity._ There must be something, though, for Yes Man to take over. _The key is to keep the water flowing — right? Keep out the plants and, and, what's the word for animals that make shells. Not crustaceans. Those are lobsters and shrimp._ It had been a while since he couldn’t remember a word; but it wasn’t a good sign. 

He heard the screams of dying men and paused, then backed away a little. The noise ended abruptly. He shook his head to clear it of bad memories, of being trapped in a small cave, underground — 

_Breathe,_ someone said in his head. _Slow breaths. Do not panic._

These suits must have had communication capabilities at some time, he thought beyond the rising panic. Maybe there weren't any towers now. Maybe everything was owned by the NCR. Maybe he just didn't know how to turn on the radio. Ha, he definitely didn't know how to turn on the radio in this suit.

He forced himself to control his breathing, slow and steady. This wasn't that place, or that time. This was war. Like that was better.

Two NCR troopers with flamers came around the corridor corner. _Breathe, slow and steady._ They stopped short, then recognized him, or more likely the red bird. "You shouldn't be here," one said.

"There's trouble up above," Gunnar improvised. "Colonel Moore."

The troopers cursed and ran past him. Gunnar waited until they left, then continued. He kept his eyes high, too high to see any bodies on the floor, and found the necessary door. 

Gunnar went in, closed the door behind him, and looked around for a way to barricade it. None. He'd just have to hurry, then.

He looked over the control panel, then again. Where was the input? Slow down, calm down. There. Gunnar retrieved the override chip and inserted it.

Nothing happened.

"Oh God," he muttered. Was it the wrong input? Wrong room? Wrong building?

The screens lit up with flickering static. The longer it went on, the more worried Gunnar became.

The NCR had to know he was here… unless the troopers had met trouble elsewhere… in which case he'd probably caused their deaths. 

Yes Man's face rippled onto the screens. "Hi Doctor Volk!" His voice sounded smaller, more tinny.

"I'm so glad to see you," Gunnar said. "You've got control?"

"I sure do! I'm unlocking the East Power Plant! Hit the manual switch, then go topside and deal with the Legion and NCR!"

"Wait, the manual switch? Where? Here? The East Power Plant?" Gunnar asked, but the screen was already dark, except for the text _Connection Lost_.

~ ~ ~

The population of Goodsprings crowded into the saloon to listen to the war broadcast.

"I hope that Volk fella learned how to shoot," Sunny Smiles commented. "He could barely hit the barn."

"He was still healing," Doc Mitchell said. "He had to've gotten better, or he wouldn't have lasted this long."

~ ~ ~

He’d flipped the switch — it looked like the right one — and more NCR and Legion troops fought each other in the halls as Gunnar found his way back out. Get out, Yes Man had said, and deal with the NCR and the Legion. He didn't want to shoot them all, just the Legion; the NCR might not be good for the Mojave but it was better than — Gunnar smiled to himself inside his helmet. One of the rare times when a Bear market might be better than a Bull!

Too much fighting at the front door. Gunnar decided to head for the roof and see what was going on instead. Soon he'd get tired, he knew, from the adrenaline and the action, and he'd need to rest. He hoped it wouldn't happen at a bad time.

Up to the roof. He looked around to get his bearings once there. Smoke and fighting and now the sound of artillery again, and it looked like to the south — was that the Fort? Caesar's Fort? If so, it was on fire. Probably the Securitrons coming out to play, Gunnar thought, remembering Yes Man's other comments about battle and the chance to attack people. There were civilians there, slaves and others, but he couldn't do anything about that now, except hope Yes Man wasn't bloodthirsty and was only attacking the soldiers.

Gunnar did not believe everlasting peace was possible. History had taught him otherwise. You might buy peace for a while, but it had to be bought, or it would be imposed upon you. And to keep that peace, you had to always be ready for war, to defend yourself against aggressors. He would need these robots later, if any survived. He would, if at all possible, buy that peace for as long as he could.

He saw a few Vertibirds in the sky. Where were those from? One had to be Daisy Whitman and the Enclave elders. The others… NCR, Gunnar guessed. The Legion wouldn't have access to aircraft. Even if the NCR only used them for observation, it would help their side immensely, as long as they stayed out of range. What could damage a Vertibird?

Artillery, for one. Gunnar watched in horror as a shell hit one of the 'birds on the wing. It began a death spiral into the waters below.

He turned at the sound of another Vertibird nearby, and realized it was to land here on the roof. Gunnar scuttled to the side to get out of the way, thankful for his armor's protection against the dirt and pebbles kicked up by propwash. Up close, he could barely see the faded Enclave logo. Everyone must think this was an NCR 'bird. Which didn't keep them safe, but better than nothing.

The 'bird barely touched down and soldiers exited. Judah, Orion, Johnson, Gunnar counted, and Doc Henry. Why had he asked these old men to come to their likely deaths? Oh, God, it had seemed smart at the time. If they died now he'd forever feel guilty.

"What's with the bloody bird?" Orion Moreno said, his voice modulated by his helmet. 

"Forget that, Moreno," said Judah Krueger. "He's here, isn't he? Are you ready for this, Volk?"

No, not really, not at all. "Yes," Gunnar said.

~ ~ ~

The Misfits might be here, Gunnar thought, as he and what he thought of as the elder squad took cover behind some sandbags. At least they had a chance of surviving now. The NCR camps and outposts, though; were they under attack too? Their troops had to stay put, in case that happened. Maybe the Legion was throwing every possible man into the meat grinder here; or maybe they were attacking on all fronts. 

That wasn't important right now, he told himself. He had to focus on what was happening right now, right here.

Like keeping Orion Moreno from killing stray NCR. Orion had said he couldn't promise to avoid friendly fire toward them, and Gunnar didn't need more trouble with California.

"Keep your head, Moreno," Gunnar finally said. "If you start shooting up NCR they'll turn on us."

"Let 'em try," Moreno growled back, but Gunnar thought the man took his advice, at least for a few more minutes.

Move forward, keep moving forward. Take down Legion. Gunnar wasn't sure he had any greater plan at the moment. Okay, "survive". There was that. His brain kept scattering thoughts in his head, distracting him when he needed to pay attention. Defeat the Legion and then deal with the NCR. He could — 

There was a sound in the air, different from Vertibirds, and Gunnar could tell he was the only one here who knew what it was. It still took him a moment to realize it.

"Lady Mary and all the saints," Gunnar said aloud, looking to the source of the sound. They'd actually gotten that thing in the air. The restored B-29 came in low, engines overwhelming the sound of the fighting.

Then he saw the bombs. 

The Boomers privileged to fly the thing must be whooping with joy, he thought, as fires erupted along the Legion encampment on the other side of Hoover Dam.

~ ~ ~

" — Not a Vertibird, repeat, _not a Vertibird._ It looks like one of the old aircraft from before the war, if you can believe it!"

"Delta Tango, repeat that please."

"I said it's one of those old airplanes from hundreds of years ago! Where the hell did it come from? Nobody's got airplanes!"

~ ~ ~

"Said he was Enclave," a Republic soldier muttered as he reloaded his weapon. "Always said it. Now there's old airplanes overhead, and soldiers in power armor. What's next, an army of robot super mutants?"

~ ~ ~

A handful of Securitrons accompanied them now. What a parade they must make, Gunnar thought: vintage power armor and death-dealing robots. _Like the old days?_ he wondered, not knowing where the question came from. The parade made a nice target for the Legion; the NCR kept away from them for now. The Legion had taken to sniping and ranged attacks, no more frontal assaults into the face of Securitron missiles and Enclave lasers.

Arcade had said something about the Enclave and energy weapons, Gunnar thought, before forcing his mind back to the present. He desperately needed to focus, but he was tiring —

"We're almost to the Legion camp," Judah Krueger said. "What's left of it, anyway."

Gunnar's head snapped up to look. Yes. Almost there, just get across the bridge.

"How's everyone holding up?" he asked.

"Still alive," Doc Henry said. "But if the NCR drops more bombs around here, we may not be."

NCR? "The bomber isn't NCR," Gunnar said. "But you're right, we have to hurry in case they come back." The Boomers might be done, considering that bombing run their part of the bargain. Or maybe they were happily bombing everyone and everything they could reach now that he'd given them the air. Something else to deal with, if he lived that long. 

Them and the Brotherhood.

Gunnar took a deep, filtered breath. "Let's go."

~ ~ ~

The Brotherhood of Steel stayed in their bunker. If they knew what was happening in the world outside, they gave no sign of it.

~ ~ ~

"Heavy fighting continues at Hoover Dam," the voice on the radio said. "Reports are also in that other New California Republic locations have been attacked. At Camp Golf, NCR troops are regaining the upper hand. Camp Forlorn Hope…"

"Makes me glad we're far from the front." Ruby Nash blew out a stream of cigarette smoke.

"Yep." Johnson Nash lit his own fresh cigarette. "That courier fella we had here, the one who got shot up. I think he might be that guy calling himself the Ponix now in New Vegas."

"The one that told the NCR to come here and keep order?" Ruby asked. "And now he wants to run the place himself."

"Yep. Wonder how that'll turn out."

~ ~ ~

 _Saints preserve us._ The Legion camp was practically on top of the Dam. No wonder they could afford to assault it so heavily. What the hell was the NCR doing out here, if it couldn't stop them from doing this?

It was spread too thin, of course. Spread too thin, supply lines too long and too easily cut. Somehow the Legion had overcome this on their side of the river, to get this many troops to this battle.

"How's Judah?" he called back to Doc Henry.

"Stable, but he's not going any farther. If I can get Daisy to pick him up — "

"Do it," Gunnar said. He'd lost Securitrons too, but still had two of those, and Cannibal Johnson and Orion Moreno with him. He still hoped this wouldn't be a suicide mission.

"The Legate should be in the camp?" he asked again. He'd expected the man to be in the field somewhere, like himself, even though that made little sense.

"Affirmative," Johnson said. He'd been following the NCR radio reports through his helmet. Gunnar wasn't going to ask at this point how to turn on the radio; he didn’t need the extra distractions. 

"What's your advice?" Gunnar asked. "To go through the camp."

"Don't get too far away from us and keep your eyes open, same as we've done all this way," Orion Moreno said.


	7. Vieni, Vieni

Papa Khan stayed in his longhouse for a full day after the Ponix, Gunnar Volk, left. Then he met with those of the tribe he considered his wisest, his good counsel.

Outsiders might think nothing much happened to the Khans after that. Things seemed to be business as usual.

But when the morning radio brought reports of the battle commencing at Hoover Dam, the order went out. The Khans packed up all they had, all they could carry, and left Red Rock Canyon, that beautiful, inhospitable place.

The Fiends were dead, the NCR fighting for its life, and the Khans could no longer carry on the way they had. No matter who won, they would be run down and scattered afterward. So said Papa Khan, who had taken the story of Chinggis to heart.

They would go north, he said; the Ponix said his people were in the north, and he was a Follower to boot. They had learned from the Followers, once; they must regain that trust, rebuild their strength, and make new lives, far from the Mojave.

~ ~ ~

When the attack hit Forlorn Hope, the NCR troops there weren't surprised. They'd known it was coming, and with the word of troop movements at Hoover Dam, it was simply _when._

What surprised them was the ferocity of the attack. The Legion troops always fought to the death, but today was worse than ever seen before.

"They're drugged up," Dr. Alex Richards said to his assistant, as the current patient was stable enough for them to look at the next. Only those Richards thought would survive got this far. Too few supplies made for a brutal triage.

"Sir?"

"I've heard of this. Get the troops high on something, tell them they're invincible, send 'em out. They'll die but they'll kill anything they can reach in the meantime. Are you awake, soldier? Good. Look right at me. You'll live through this."

Not without scars, and not without leaving behind half a hand, and squadmates. But he would live. 

The battle continued just past the camp for the rest of the day.

~ ~ ~

Gunnar shot repeatedly, the Duzi barely slowing down the Praetorian closing fast. _What the hell is in that armor?_ and then he was there, and Gunnar saw that heavy robotic glove like Veronica's — 

He staggered at the blow to the left side of his helmet, and the world got noisy and dizzy and he had to get up, get up and get moving again.

"Had enough?" the Praetorian taunted, and drew back for another punch.

Gunnar fired the Duzi into the Praetorian's bare leg, shattering the bone. The man dropped, screaming in pain, and Gunnar got back to his feet and reloaded frantically before firing again and again, past the point of necessity.

Something was wrong.

He looked around. He could smell smoke and cooking meat and blood and burning hair and — 

His helmet lay on the ground nearby. The latch on the left side was broken clean off, and the left eyepiece cracked. 

He picked it up and saw grazes and fresh streaks of impact on it, and some of them couldn't have been from this Praetorian. The battle was already blurring together in his head, but had he not noticed getting hit? Maybe. Was the helmet still useful? Maybe. Maybe not. 

Where were the others? No plan survives contact with the enemy, he thought, not even one as simple as ‘don't get too far apart.’ He looked around the Legion camp, a mess of wooden fences and tents and narrow paths. He could still hear fighting and weapons fire. The breeze felt cool on his bare, sweaty face after being helmeted all day.

Get back to the others, he thought. Whoever might still be standing, but someone was still fighting out there, and they wouldn't know where he was, either, or if he was alive.

Gunnar reloaded the Duzi. It wasn't the right weapon for this place, he'd been a fool to think just a handgun would be enough, even this one. He should've brought a shotgun, maybe. He was as likely to hurt himself as enemies if he used the barn gun in these confines, even if he had gotten better with practice.

How would he know when the war was over? He realized he wasn't sure. He began walking, rubbernecking to watch for enemies, but he didn't see anyone. Where was everyone?

He peeked around a corner. Nobody. Which way? Gunnar tried to orient on the sounds. That way, he thought. He had to get back to his team.

He followed that path and then stopped when he saw the Legate.

It had to be him, and, Gunnar thought, Yes Man had not been exaggerating after all. He was tall, and broad-shouldered, and looked more than capable of taking off an arm with that sword. The Legate faced him, and the carved mask kept Gunnar from knowing what the man looked like beneath it. Just like — 

Gunnar realized he was still carrying the damaged helmet in his left hand.

"An envoy of Vegas," Legate Lanius said, and Gunnar had no doubt it was he. "Yet you carry yourself for battle. Perhaps you are not truly of that city of cowards."

Cowards? Because they had no army of their own, perhaps. Gunnar licked his lips before continuing. "If you think you have any chance of taking Hoover Dam, you're wrong."

 _What're you going to do, talk him to death?_ The Lady and Mary and St. Helena willing, yes. 

Lanius snorted in disdain. "Many graves in the East are filled with those who said as much, with braver words, not backed by strength."

_Blood makes the grass grow._

"It is Caesar's will, this gate to the West shall bear the flag of the Legion. And Caesar's will shall be done."

"Maybe you're willing to listen to me," Gunnar said.

"I see you fight with words, like all beneath the flag of the Bear," Lanius said.

"I am not of New California!" Gunnar suddenly shouted. "I am the Ponix of New Vegas! I am here to tell you, this battle is already decided!"

Lanius barked a laugh. "You think me a lesser man, some other Legate? I am the first of the Legion, and this gate to the West shall be ours this day."

"You think so?" Gunnar shot back. Keep talking, keep talking. "I came here, myself, and reached this point! The trap is set!"

Lanius seemed to enjoy Gunnar's words. "Neither you nor the NCR know anything of my tactics, or the strength of my forces. You will all learn."

"I have learned my whole life, Legate," Gunnar said. "Learned from everything I could find. Nobody sees what I can do, until it's too late." Whoof, that was corny.

"Your words have done nothing but delay the inevitable," Lanius said, and now Gunnar sensed what little advantage he'd had slipping away. "Now, see what my hounds and my blade will bring to you."

Gunnar had the Duzi in one hand and the damaged helmet in the other. Nonetheless he stood tall. If he was going to go down in history — maybe — for standing up to Lanius, at least he'd do so with head held high. "Any man can claim bravery when he outnumbers his opponent."

Now Gunnar could see more Praetorians approaching, staying back, watching their leader, who would kill the insolent red bird chattering before him. Bravery, even incredibly stupid fatal bravery, would count for something. Maybe they wouldn't put his head on a pike afterward to parade through the Strip.

"Hnh." Lanius waved back his Praetorians. "I have seen little of true battle this day. And you were brave to come here to face me when all of NCR would not, bloody Phoenix. I have heard of you, how you came back from the dead. I shall honor your last words and face you alone. No man will say I refused your challenge. But this time you will not rise again."


	8. Five Minutes Earlier

_Five minutes earlier:_

Boone, Cass and Raul achieved the top of the ridge overlooking the camp after several quiet and bloody murders of Legion troops in the way. Of course Gunnar had said he would go alone, but he was the Ponix, not Caesar. They weren't about to blindly obey, especially not for this.

They all agreed that Gunnar Volk might be a decent man to rule New Vegas, but choosing to fight in the battle was foolhardy at best and suicidal at worst. So they'd come to even the odds.

Now Raul kept an eye on their surroundings and the way they'd come up, while Boone and Cass lay prone on the ridge to see what was happening. Cass had the binoculars; Boone had his scope.

"Light's going down," Cass commented.

"Yeah."

"I see the Legate," Cass said, holding the binocs steady. "Big guy with a big mask and a big sword."

"I see him," Boone said. That mask might block a head shot. He kept his aim on the Legate, hoping for a better shot, if he could see some less-armored part.

"Shit," Cass said.

"What is it?" Boone didn't look away from the Legate bastard.

"Gunnar's down there. Nine o'clock down the hill from Mister Mask."

Boone moved the scope to look, and dammit, there Gunn was, apparently going to try talking. Legion didn't understand talking, they'd crucify him. And what the hell was with that armor? There was a bird painted on the armor's left breast, and the paint had dripped so it looked like blood.

"I don't think our Ponix will convince the Monster of the East to switch sides," Cass said, still watching.

"Is he trying to negotiate?" Raul asked. 

"I hope not. He'll just irritate the Legate because he won't shut up."

"Shit." This time it was Boone who spoke. "They're going to fight a duel."

"Are you sure?" Cass asked.

"Well known honorable way to get killed," Raul said.

"Would it work? If Gunnar wins, would the Legion back down?" Cass wondered aloud. "I don't think so."

"How many soldiers are down there?" Raul asked.

Cass looked through the binocs. "Enough to make an audience."

"While your use of the language to convey information is commendable, Ms. Cassidy, I think numbers would be of greater use here."

"Wiseghoul. At least half a dozen… seven, eight…"

~ ~ ~

Gunnar put his helmet back on. It didn't feel nearly as solid as the Legate's mask looked. He had the barn gun and Duzi; Lanius had that sword. Gunnar's hopes were not high.

He took the barn gun from his back and aimed as Lanius came toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally omitted from the story by accident.


	9. You're Dangerous

Boone couldn't get a good shot on Lanius now, not when the Legate was running forward. Instead he picked off a Praetorian too close to Gunnar. The impact pushed the man backward.

Cass began calling locations of Legion troops visible to them. Boone would still try to blow the Legate's brains out if he could, duel be damned. But until he could, these bastards could die too.

"Taking sides in a duel?" Raul asked. “Better hope they don’t realize.”

Boone said nothing, and kept hunting. Honor would get Gunn killed. An honorless sonofabitch might prevent that.

~ ~ ~

Gunnar dropped the barn gun after firing. It took too long to reload it for a single shot, and in close combat, he was equally likely to hurt himself as his enemy. He ran to one side as he took up the Duzi.

He reached in his ammo pouch to reload the Duzi, nothing, _NO there's got to be a few left!_ , other pouch, half a dozen bullets, he'd put them there earlier from Raul, no choice but to use them now.

Take a precious few seconds, proper stance, two hands on the pistol, _fire,_ all five shots into the sniper's triangle. 

~ ~ ~

Boone was in the zone, find, shoot, again and again. Keep killing Legion, because the damned Legate was fast under that armor, and as soon as Boone saw an opportunity — 

Gunn emptied the pistol into the Legate, who staggered. Gunn took the chance to grab his barn gun and turn to run for a more open area. Those grenades could smash him up, too, if they landed too close.

"Ten degrees right, dark glasses," Cass said.

The Praetorian in dark glasses had one of those heavy gloves like Veronica wore, and was closing on Gunn. Boone drew a bead and shot right through the bastard's neck.

~ ~ ~

No time for thought or stray memories. Run, reload, fire, dodge.

The great sword swung down. Gunnar felt it hit the top of his helmet and carry it away. Run.

~ ~ ~

The ground shook as another grenade exploded. Boone gritted his teeth and searched through the dust and smoke. Another one. They kept coming, of course they did, but the bastards were starting to realize someone was here, and then they might add their own grenades to the mix.

"Where's Gunnar? I've lost him!" Cass said.

~ ~ ~

Gunnar skidded aside from the sword, which crashed into the tent next to him, destroying it with one blow. If Lanius connected — 

Someone yelled something he couldn't make out. Didn't matter. Gunnar ducked between the tents, turned, fired wildly with the barn gun, ran again, felt the earth shake behind him, nearly tripped over a dead Praetorian.

Dead Praetorian wearing Veronica's glove — 

Gunnar snatched up the glove and ran again, but he didn't know the layout of this camp. The path ended abruptly in a dead end against the rock face.

~ ~ ~

"Can't see 'im," Boone said, lifting his head from the scope to get a better allover view. "Goddamnit — "

~ ~ ~

Lanius did not pause to say something witty or dramatic. He kept coming. 

Gunnar raised the barn gun in defense. The sword smashed through it and left a gash in the front of Gunnar's armor. The impact slammed Gunnar against the rock wall.

The sword kept going, down to the ground, so big that Lanius had to use both hands to wield it — 

~ ~ ~

"He's below us," Boone said, getting to his feet.

"Incoming," Cass said. She pointed to the Praetorians running up through the camp.

"You two shoot from up here," Boone said. "I'm heading down."

~ ~ ~

\- Gunnar launched himself forward, the powered glove on his right fist ramming home into the the carved mask.

Just keep punching, again, _again_ , give no quarter, _no mercy!_ and Gunnar gave none, gave no pause to lose the advantage, why was it _again_ he had already done this — 

~ ~ ~

Boone slid down the last fifteen feet of hillside and smashed his rifle butt into a Praetorian's face. There was no way he could get to all of them in time — they were taking cover now from Cass and Raul shooting from above. And Gunn was punching a man who wasn't moving any more.

Boone remembered what felt like ages ago and yesterday at the same time, in the Tops, before Mr. House, before so much had happened, when Gunn had beaten a man to death with a billiard ball.

"Gunn!" he yelled, and drew up his rifle, but the remaining Praetorians looked uncertain or shocked, or both, at what was happening before them. Boone stepped sideways and back to where Gunn was, and risked grabbing his arm. "Gunn. He's dead." If he wasn't, he sure would be soon enough. "You can stop. Gunn!"

Gunn stared at him for a moment, no recognition in those blue-green eyes, before he came back to himself and jerked away from Boone's touch. He looked down at the bloody glove, bits of… something stuck to it and suddenly tore it from his arm and threw it violently to the ground. It bounced once and flopped.

"Gunn. You killed him. You did it." Boone returned his attention to the hostiles around them; they had their backs against the rock wall and there was no way out. This was it. A good way to go.

~ ~ ~

Gunnar looked to the now-silent Legionaries and the camp beyond. There was still battle out there somewhere. Still a war being fought. How would they know their champion had been defeated?

He picked up the sword, so much bigger than anything he'd seen outside a movie, and dragged it to the body.

"This is it," Boone muttered.

Gunnar didn't answer. He added his weight to the weight of the sword and, after what seemed like a long time, finally separated Lanius' head from his body. The mask was still half there, the part that hadn't been smashed beyond recognition.

Gunnar picked up the head by its hair and walked slowly to face the enemy troops. He raised the masked head as high as he could. "Behold your champion!" he screamed at them. "Run, you cowards! Tell Caesar his champion is dead at the hands of the Ponix! _Vegas is mine!"_


	10. Welcome to my Dream

"How're you holding up?" Cannibal Johnson said. He had only a few shots left for the Gatling laser.

"What, you need a break, old man?" Orion Moreno countered. "I can keep killing for both of us."

They stood back to back, waiting for a new wave of enemies that was slow in arriving. "Better this way than alone and in bed," Moreno said. 

"I wouldn't die _alone_ in my bed," Johnson said. It felt like old times, this bantering.

"Something's changed," Moreno said.

"We got old."

"Not that. Hear that?"

They listened. "Shooting's stopped," Johnson said. And it had, nearby. The camp was quieter than it had been, though the war still raged nearby.

"Yeah. You think Volk got himself killed?"

Johnson hesitated before responding. "If they killed him, I think we'd hear a victory," he said, straining his ears. 

They saw movement, and stopped talking, weapons at the ready. But the Legion soldiers just ran in the direction of the camp exit. It wasn't a purposeful run, they were…

"They're running away," Johnson said, mystified.

"That's crazy talk. Legion're too scared of their officers to run away."

Two more soldiers, also fleeing.

"Either their officers are behind them, or they found something scarier," Johnson said.

~ ~ ~

"Gunn, are you okay?"

"No." Gunnar felt a little detached from himself. He would sleep badly tonight, and for nights to come. 

His friends made a loose circle around him as they walked back toward the Dam, at Gunnar's pace, which was regular if a little unsteady. 

_Heavy is the head that wears the mask,_ he thought. He tried not to think anything else about the thing hanging from his right hand. _Takes a head to get ahead,_ his brain offered anyway. 

"We should get you another helmet," Cass said. "Why didn't they attack you?"

"Legion troops are scared of their officers, especially that one," Raul said. "They didn't expect him to get killed by a teacher."

"I'm a doctor," Gunnar said. _Not the kind that saves people. Yes you are. You saved everyone in the Legion's path._

"Okay, doctor teacher."

"I'll scout ahead," Boone said, and did so.

"If I was one of them I'd be aiming for your noggin right now," Cass continued.

"If you was one of them you'd be dead or keeping house," Raul said. "Not picking up a gun."

"Yeah, you're right."

Boone had gained some high ground ahead of them and was scoping the Dam. "I think you'd better be seen," he told Gunnar when the group got close enough to hear. "Hold up the head again, show you mean business. Fighting's still going on down there."

"Okay." It made sense. The few Praetorians in the camp probably hadn't spread the word enough yet. Good God, this place needed better communications. Somehow. One more thing to delegate.

~ ~ ~

"…This just in from our reporters on-site at Hoover Dam. Legate Lanius, the Terror of the East, Caesar's second in command himself, has been killed. Legion troops have fallen back and we have incoming reports of Legionaries fleeing back to the Legion side of the river. 

"…A report has just come in from a captured Legion fighter that the Ponix of New Vegas, our own Gunnar Volk, challenged Legate Lanius to a duel in single combat and cut the Legate's head off. This is unconfirmed at this time, but I'll get the word from the Ponix as soon as I can. Such a thing is unprecedented in the history of the Legion since Legate Lanius came to power as Caesar's right-hand man. We'll have more news for you right after this word from our sponsor, Mama Ria's Tamales."

~ ~ ~

"Good luck to all of you," Gunnar said to the Enclave elders. "But if you return to Vegas, at any time, I won't turn you away."

"Thanks, kid. But Vegas and this territory's likely to stay hot for a while." It was Orion Moreno who spoke. Cannibal Johnson was talking to Daisy Whitman on his helmet radio. "We'll find a safe place to lay low for now. But… hell, maybe we'll take you up on it someday."

"I appreciate all your help," Gunnar said. He held out his left hand to shake; his right still held its grisly trophy. Moreno shook it awkwardly. "And thanks for coming today. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Damn straight you couldn't!" Moreno laughed. "You didn't know how to turn on your radio, did you?"

"No."

"Well, doesn't matter now, not with that helmet smashed to pieces anyway."

"Daisy says good luck," Johnson said, "and take care of Arcade."

"I will."

~ ~ ~

Boone watched from a distance as Gunn talked with the two men at the Vertibird. Enclave logos. Well, everyone scavenged technology. That's where the NCR had picked up its own Vertibirds, after all — from the Enclave and from the Brotherhood. It wouldn't be a surprise if Gunn had found some group willing to use old Enclave material in exchange for helping out in the battle.

Because Gunn wasn't Enclave — he couldn't be, he'd woken up in the Vault — and the Enclave in the West had been destroyed before Craig Boone was even born. Salvaged tech was all that remained of them.

The sound from the Vertibird's engines rose in pitch, and Gunn returned to Boone. 

"Your friends aren't sticking around?" Boone asked.

"They've got somewhere else to be," Gunn said. "But they were here when I needed them."

~ ~ ~

It would be such a long walk back to the city. Gunnar hadn't eaten since… he'd woken up? Had he eaten before coming out here? Yes, the food Marilyn had given him before he’d left. That was so long ago.

There was water to drink, though, which helped, but he was exhausted and afraid to sleep. He had to get back to Vegas, to the safety of the 38, his ivory tower, haha, before some enterprising Legion sniper realized he could make a name for himself with a well-placed shot.

Could he ride one of the Securitrons? Was he loopy to even consider it?

"How're we getting back to Vegas?" he heard Cass ask. So nobody else had a good idea either. They needed horses, cars, a flatbed truck, at this point even a ricksha might work. Of course the roads were beat all to hell, but better than overland — 

Raul's voice broke into Gunnar's thoughts. "Trouble ahead."

Gunnar looked to see several NCR rangers escorting an officer — a general, Gunnar realized. Fairly clean, too. Gunnar knew he must look bad in comparison, but hell, he'd been in a battle.

A flashbulb went off on his right, startling him, and two Securitrons moved up to keep onlookers well back. Flashbulb. Camera. There was still film here and there. Maybe someday in history books — 

"That's General Oliver," Boone muttered, barely moving his lips. "Commander of the army."

There wasn't time for more. "Stay back, but close," Gunnar said. "Securitrons, please relay this to Yes Man and record the meeting." If that was possible. But people would hear those words, and think it was.

"Caesar on the cross," General Oliver began, "been a long time since I've seen the kind of work you've laid down today. A _damn_ long time. And the screams of those Legion bastards as they kicked dirt running East… like a choir of angels to my ears."

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Gunnar said. "I am Doctor Gunnar Volk, Ponix of New Vegas." The head was so heavy. He should see if there was a pike somewhere. Even a Legion javelin. Something to stick the head onto so someone else could carry it. _Soon._

General Oliver's smile faded as he saw Legate Lanius' head. The head had run out of blood to drip, but a few determined insects now buzzed around it. "So you did it," Oliver said. "I'm damn impressed. Fucking amazing. Could use a couple hundred of you, just scatter you over the East and — "

"Please introduce yourself," Gunnar said. "Because I'm very busy. I have a lot of work to do." _Before I fall down._ The Securitrons rumbled forward half a foot. 

"I'm General Lee Oliver, of the New California Republic Army, Doctor Volk. These, uh… these boys are with you? Hello there, Smiley," he said to one of the unsmiling robots. "Can you ask them to put their weapons down?"

"I'm sorry, General Oliver, but this is still a war zone and they aren't going to take any chances. Now then. There's been enough violence for today. If you and your troops would please leave the Dam and return to the California border, I think that's — "

"Excuse me?" General Oliver said, all friendliness gone.

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." So tired. "I am the Ponix of New Vegas. This is my land. Hoover Dam is mine. I have driven the Legion from it. I could drive the NCR from it too, but I'd rather not throw away your men's lives over this." 

A crowd had gathered, staying back because of the Securitrons, but nonetheless able to see and hear everything happening.

General Oliver took two steps forward. "I would sooner spit on the grave of my dead mother," he hissed, "than let some Enclavist flitter talk to me like that. Who the hell do you think you are?" His voice rose. "Looking to cash your chips to the sound of NCR bullets, are you? I can take care of that right now."

"If you're going to attack me, do it now." Gunnar sensed movement behind and to the left of him; that might be Boone. "I have a lot to do and I'd rather get the next fight over with. And I warn you, it'll cost you. Maybe you'll win. _He_ thought he would." Gunnar lifted the head and turned it so he could look into the mask's remaining eye socket. "And the Boomers didn't use all their bombs. They can fly over the mountains and lay waste to your cities. You can't touch them. Then there's my reserves who I haven't called in yet. So, if you still want a fight, General, feel free to start one. If you think you can finish it."

The crowd made some noise. Someone might have seen him by the Enclave's Vertibird, or more likely they just knew he had control of possibly hundreds of military-grade Securitrons.

"If you have any snipers aiming for me," Gunnar added, "I should tell you that of course I have backup plans. If something happens to me, nobody in the NCR is safe from retribution." He lowered the head and faced General Oliver again. "But I don't think you want to continue the fight. I think we can talk like civilized people."

"Civilized?" The General's showed his teeth, but it wasn't a smile. "Do you know what you're doing? I've heard you call yourself the King Under the Mountain. You think you're going to carve out your little kingdom here, is that it? Nation-building is hard, _Ponix._ You think you've got the guts to carve out a frontier? To build towns, protect the roads, keep supplies moving? And what about troops, or are you going to rely on your metal army and half-wild tribes and crime families to protect your city?"

All valid points, to be sure. Gunnar suddenly pictured himself holding up the head like a ventriloquist's dummy and "talking" through it in a silly voice. He didn't act upon that thought.

"If all you can offer are insults, then you and your army are no longer welcome here at Hoover Dam, in or around the city of New Vegas, or anywhere my forces can reach," Gunnar said, putting some heat behind his words. "I've been polite. I've explained the situation. You have overstayed your welcome, General Oliver, and so have your troops."

A hush fell.

"Look," General Oliver said, taking off his peaked cap and wiping his brow before settling it again. "I know what those robots of yours can do. I saw it happen. Maybe you'd win — I doubt it — but the cost is too high." He lowered his voice. "But you'd better hope you can hold onto your kingdom. You've pissed off the Bear, Volk, and the Bear has a long reach." He leaned forward. "So you'd better be ready. I promise you, if our situations were reversed? I'd see you hang."

"How do you kill a man who's already died?" Gunnar said without thinking. "You're dismissed, General."


	11. Aren't You Glad You're You?

"Welcome back, listeners. I'm Mr. New Vegas, and I think it's safe to say nobody expected things to turn out quite this way when the day started. For those of you just now tuning in, the Second Battle of Hoover Dam is over. We'll have more details at the top of the hour, but here are the quick headlines.

"Gunnar Volk, ruler of New Vegas, personally fought the Legion's top Legate in a duel to the death and won. Without their fearsome commanding officer, Legion troops lost morale and began first to retreat and then to flee back to the Legion lands to the east. Overall death toll is still being calculated but the Legion's expansion has suffered its second serious defeat at Hoover Dam. What this will mean for Caesar and his empire is unknown.

"But that's not all that happened, listeners. Dr. Volk then declared Hoover Dam property of New Vegas and demanded the NCR remove itself from the Mojave. Eyewitnesses on the scene say Ponix Volk stood his ground like a champion, swearing he would fight to keep New Vegas free and independent. 

"Since the end of the battle, NCR troops have indeed left the area, heading westward to Camp McCarran. It remains to be seen whether the NCR will remove itself completely from the area. This is a setback for the NCR, too, who have already dealt with a restive Mojave populace and increasing lack of support for the war back in California. 

"Tonight, Hoover Dam is guarded by Ponix Volk, his troops, and an army of Securitrons that nobody knew existed when the war started this morning. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. But you know what, listeners? I bet it won't be dull. 

"In just a few minutes we'll have more details from the front, and see what it means for all of us at home. But first, here's Frank Sinatra singing the immortal 'My Way'."

~ ~ ~

Gunnar didn't remember returning to the shelter of the Hoover Dam Visitor Center, or what happened afterward. When he woke, the room spun around him, and his stomach threatened violence upon everything. Then it wasn't a threat.

Someone handed him a bucket, but his stomach held nothing but acid, so he retched a while and then accepted a bottle of clean water to rinse his mouth and drink.

"You okay there, boss?"

Gunnar shook his head.

"It's good to be honest. Such as, I never thought you of all people would punch a man to death. But you did, and that might upset anyone's stomach."

Either Raul didn't know how to be comforting, or he just didn't care. Gunnar drank the rest of the water. He felt awful. The word 'awful' didn't begin to describe it, but it was the only word he had right now. "Where's everyone?" he croaked. He still felt sick and the room hadn't settled down either.

"Taking turns sleeping. Your robots have everything under control." Gunnar watched Raul resume his game of solitaire. "You were dead on your feet, boss. So, you gave orders to the robots, we came back here, and found some beds to sleep on."

"Found?"

"Nobody was usin' 'em, boss."

"I see." And this was, indeed, a bed, not just a filthy mattress on the ground. Probably too hard for the NCR to carry away. "Did the NCR leave?"

"They did that very thing, boss. Nobody here but the robots and us loyal followers of a crazy Vault man. Since you claimed this is your territory, that means that for tonight, you're the only one worth a dam."

Gunnar began laughing and thought he wouldn't stop. It was hysteria, but he didn't care, either.

"It's not that funny, boss," Raul said with some concern, as Gunnar fell sideways on the bed, still laughing.

~ ~ ~

When Gunnar had recovered, and drank more water, Raul reminded him to eat. "There's plenty here."

"More things that nobody was using?" Gunnar rubbed his face with both hands; he felt filthy. At least he'd removed the power armor before passing out on the bed earlier.

"You could say that. It came from the Legion camp, though. They had plenty of meat. Fresh fruit, too."

Gunnar didn't know if he could bring himself to eat meat. David had had that problem sometimes, he remembered; he'd come home and be unable to eat meat for a while. How long ago that was. "Sure," he said, because he could always change his mind. Assuming his stomach didn't turn at the smell. "Fruit, yeah. Maybe if there's anything canned." Old pre-war food couldn't be fresh red meat. "What happened to the… to the head?"

"Boone found a spear, like you asked, and set it up just inside the door of this place. Mostly so no critters could take a bite out of it. Seeing as how you couldn't be separated from it for the longest time," Raul said.

That didn't help either. Gunnar sliced up the apple and pear Raul found for him and ate slowly. He'd beheaded a corpse and carried the head around. He'd probably be a bogeyman for generations to come. On the other hand, it had served its purpose, more or less. If everyone was scared to death of him, maybe they wouldn't try invading. Or sending hit squads. 

His Pipboy said it was late at night. The next day, really. Too late to call — that was stupid, of course he couldn't call, there weren't telephones. But everyone in Vegas had to know he was alive. There were plenty of people who'd seen him deal with General Oliver — _I dismissed the general. Like I don't have enough enemies. I tried to be civil, though. No one can I say I wasn't._

There was a jury-rigged shower in the Visitor Center, probably arranged by the NCR. The water was cold, and Gunnar couldn't stay in it for long, but with repeated duckings and vigorous scrubbing, he got the blood and dirt and sweat off to where he felt halfway clean again. _But you'll never erase the stains on your soul._

No. He would not forget those things he'd done.

When Gunnar was as scrubbed as he could stand, he realized he didn't have any clean clothes. Of course he didn't; he hadn't planned that far ahead, and now his thoughts were muddled. There were some towels and sheets, though; being this close to a source of water meant the troops at the Dam had reasonable access to laundry. He wrapped himself up and went back to bed. 

Raul wasn't there, and that was fine by Gunnar. He curled up on the bed and shivered a while, until he warmed up enough to sleep.

His dreams were dark and terrible, and he woke up more than once. The last time, Cass was studying him with troubled eyes.

"You're really not doing well, are you?" she asked.

What, did they all think he was made of stone? "I want to go home," he mumbled into his improvised layers. "As soon as it's light enough to travel."

"Sure. If you'll eat some more. Raul said you barely touched anything."

So Gunnar ate some old pre-war meals, which stayed down, and had to admit that they did help. 

He would survive this, as he'd survived so much already. Somehow. 

"Yes Man said he's got something to tell you," Cass said, breaking into his thoughts. "Not an emergency, don't worry. But you should talk to him when you can."

"How…?"

"Through one of the Securitrons. Or all of them, hell, I don't know. Anyway, he already knows everything that happened here."

It had been too late to call — Gunnar set down the plastic plate. "I need clothes," he said. 

"Yeah, yours were kinda — "

"Not now, Cass! I need some clothes if I'm going back to Vegas without looking like a discard from a toga party!"

"Are you wearing the armor back?" she asked.

"I… yes, I could, couldn't I? So I just need something until I get back to Vegas. Can you look for me?"

"Oh, hey, live t' serve ya," she said, making a sloppy salute. "Anything else I can get you in the meantime?"

"A comb and a razor."

"You don't ask for much, do you? I'll do it if you finish your food. You've got to keep up your strength, for appearance's sake."

He was still unsteady. Traumatized, that's what the Followers had said back when he'd first come to Vegas proper. He hoped he could live quietly one day. And sleep without bad dreams. And eat fresh food that wasn't bugs or mystery meat.

He shouldn't have thought of meat. 

There were some NCR dress uniforms left behind; someone was going to get in trouble for that. Cass ripped the insignia off with a sharp knife, and it would do until he could return to the city. In the meantime, he would be dressed.

As neatened as he could get himself, Gunnar faced the console and Yes Man’s smiling expression. Had it only been a day ago? “Hi, Yes Man.”

“Good morning, Dr. Volk! I’m so glad to see you alive again! It’s been a real worry over here! But everything’s being taken care of, you bet!”

“Fill me in?” Where to begin. “The city, is it under control?”

“Now it is! Mostly! Definitely the Strip! And the rest of it should certainly be peaceable by nightfall!”

Gunnar groaned and lay his head on his arms.

“It’s not like that, Dr. Volk! It originally started much worse! But between the Families, the Kings, and of course your powerful Securitrons, order was restored quickly! It’s mostly in the outer ruins that there are still some problems!”

“Okay.” Gunnar raised his head again. “How bad was the rioting?”

“The Strip is fine! Casualties among rioters and looters is minimal!”

Gunnar wondered what “minimal” meant in this context, but let Yes Man keep talking.

“No casualties to the Securitrons! I believe there were some losses to the Families!”

“How about the NCR?”

“Retreating! A lot!” Yes Man said with relish. “They’re taking it seriously! I have Securitrons stationed around our borders just in case!”

“Good, good. How about the settlers?”

“They’re pacified!” Gunnar blanched, knowing what that word could mean, but Yes Man continued, “The Kings have them under control! If they want to go with the NCR, they are free to leave!”

“Okay. If anyone wants to stay, they can stay, but they have to swear allegiance to New Vegas if they’re going to live here. That includes the Mojave. We’ll straighten out citizenship later.” At least some of those people wouldn’t want to leave behind whatever they’d built, or the plot of land they tended. “No reprisals if civilians just want to stay. Okay? Pass that on to the King. I want to come home to a peaceful city.”

“That’s a really honorable goal! And just like you, Dr. Volk!”

“Thanks, I think.” Gunnar rubbed his face with both hands. _A murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer. And he'll still get his judgment._ Boone had said that, so long ago. Judgment could still happen. But please, not today. “The Followers?”

“As best I can tell, they’re overwhelmed and working hard! Taking care of a lot of people right now! Your friends were still alive last time one of the Securitrons saw them, though! So they’re probably still fine!”

Gunnar let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Can you find Arcade? Do you have a Securitron at the Old Mormon Fort?"

"I do have a presence there! I also have something to tell you, Dr. Volk!"

"It's not bad news, is it?" No more. Please.

"Not at all! It's good news! I've figured out how to make myself more assertive!"

Gunnar frowned. _Can we obliterate the Brotherhood of Steel, Dr. Volk?_ "Assertive?"

"Yep! I've been looking around in the databanks for how to do it, and now I know how! It'll take me a while to do it, and I'll be offline, but I know you'll - "

"Yes Man?" Gunnar's mouth was very dry. "That's excellent news."

"I sure think so!"

"But I need you to wait until I return to the city, to, to the 38. Can you do that?"

There was a pause. Computers 'thought' faster than humans, so either Yes Man was being dramatic, or really had to consider this.

"You asked me what I wanted, Dr. Volk!" Yes Man said at last. 

"I know. I did, and I mean it. And I won't stop you from doing this, if it helps you be what, and who, you want to be." Good God, Yes Man might well become a monster, without anyone reining him in. "But things are still very chaotic right now. I need to return to the city, and make sure I know how to command the Securitrons properly. I know you can show me how to do that, and where other data is in the central computer."

"You're not going to turn me off, are you!" Slight tinge of worry in Yes Man's voice.

"No. I won't. But I want to look over Mr. House's information and projections, and his plans. If you're going to be offline for a while, I need to make sure I can do that, and still protect the city. Which includes you, too, you know."

Another pause.

"I guess I can wait!" Some programmer had gone to a lot of work to make Yes Man sound agreeable no matter what he said and whatever the actual intent. "But you'll come right back, won't you!"

"Yes. I will come back as fast as I can." And hope nobody kidnapped him or diverted him to some meaningless sidetrack on the way.

"Today!" It wasn’t a question.

"Yes, today. I have to get back to make sure there's control."

"Okay then!" Yes Man sounded mollified, if not happy.

"Can you find Arcade?" Gunnar asked. "And can we talk to each other through the Securitron? I'd like him to know I'm safe."

"I'm pretty sure he knows, since you're all over the news!"

Gunnar rubbed his throbbing temples. "Yes Man, please, I need to speak with him." _More assertive, my ass,_ he thought. _I'll take less passive-aggressive when you get in these moods._

"I don't think you can directly speak with him!" Yes Man chirped. "But I can get to him and tell him what you say!"

"Good enough."


	12. I Walk the Line

"Hey! Dr. Gannon!"

Arcade froze at the sound of that aggressively nice voice. Was he hallucinating? He unbent himself from checking on the state of this patient's bandages. All the clean water was gone, and fires for boiling more made the Old Mormon Fort smoky. He wouldn't be surprised if he were hearing things. Or perhaps he was dreaming. This was neither the best nor the worst he could dream. 

But no, people got out of the way of a trundling Securitron with that goofy smiling face on it. Arcade decided an ambulatory Yes Man was indeed cause for concern. "Yes?" he asked. Act like this was perfectly normal.

"I have a message for you from Dr. Volk!"

"Do you have a volume control?" Arcade asked. There wasn't anywhere private that a Securitron could fit.

"I don't know! I never needed to find out!"

Arcade resisted the urge to sigh dramatically. "Very well then. Tell him I'm here, in the Old Mormon Fort, with a crowd of people around, as I try to care for the sick and wounded."

There was a pause that lengthened to where Arcade wondered if he should get back to work. There was plenty of work to do. But the chance to rest, for even this long, was welcome.

At last, just as the outer edges of the crowd began to drift away out of boredom, Yes Man spoke again. "He asks if you're safe and unharmed!"

One might argue about both of those, but instead, Arcade went for the letter of the question if not the spirit. "Yes and yes. Is he as well?"

"Affirmative!"

Arcade finally allowed himself to feel relief. He'd been too busy to worry (much) about Gunnar during the battle; the news reports indicated he'd survived and, depending on who you listened to, chopped off the Legate's head in single combat, in the style of David and Goliath, or commanded an entire flight of Vertibirds dropping bombs over the entire dam. It was good to hear directly - mostly directly - that he was safe. "Is he returning soon?"

"He sure is! Now that Hoover Dam is safe, he'll be back to New Vegas as fast as he can manage!"

Murmurs swelled through the crowd like wind through trees high in the mountains. "I'm looking forward to it," Arcade said, his throat tight. "We'll be here."

~ ~ ~

"Mind if I ask a question?" Cass said.

Gunnar was as ready to return to New Vegas as he would likely ever be. The stink of the war hung over Hoover Dam; the water, air and earth alike tainted by dead bodies and twisted wreckage. Fires still burned in places and while the NCR had retrieved its wounded and dead, the Legion had not, so human and animal scavengers now swarmed and fought over the spoils. The Securitrons were only to guard the dam and themselves; Gunnar didn't want to lose any more of them.

"Sure," he said. He was so bone-weary in body and spirit. Go home. Try again to feel clean. Sleep. Eat. Hope the world wouldn't decay further while he did so.

"Where'd you get the armor?" 

Cass was studying the damaged red bird he'd painted over the Enclave logo. To Gunnar's eyes, he could have done a better job, but he was in a hurry. "What, you want one too?" he asked instead.

"Just imagine a caravan guarded by these!" she said. "But y'know... you know who uses these, right?"

"The Brotherhood of Steel." Gunnar wished they still had a working helmet to attach, but he'd just have to make do with something salvaged, as usual. "The NCR's stolen or kitbashed a lot of suits for themselves, too, from people they defeated."

"Yeah, that's true. This one was Enclave, once, wasn't it?"

Gunnar shrugged. "The Enclave was defeated a long time ago in California."

"You got that right. This thing's an antique. In good shape before you got in a brawl, too." She stepped back and looked at him. 

"It was a present," Gunnar said. "Given to me."

"Okay, I get it, you don't want to tell me," she said, but she was smiling.

~ ~ ~

If the power armor could walk on its own, Gunnar would have set the autopilot and gone back to sleep. He could've done it, even supported in this suit, he suspected. Partly because he needed physical rest, but also because he needed to not think for a while. Sleep could give him some of that. There might be dreams, sure - he knew there would be nightmares to come - but for a little while, asleep, he wouldn't have to think or make decisions or remember.

But that option wasn't available to him, so instead he began the walk back to New Vegas, with Cass, Raul, Boone, and several Securitrons surrounding him. It didn't seem real, as he fell into a pace he could manage, and the robots kept in a wide circle around him to deter anyone from getting too close. 

"How's that helmet workin' for ya?" Cass asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"It'll do." It was an old army helmet, probably stolen from some war museum. It fit, with part of a towel to cushion it against his skull, and it was solid metal, which should help against most attempts against assassination. That was part of his future, too, he reasoned. Liberty Valance, plus grudges and enemy nations... 

_I will not wall myself up in the tower,_ he thought. _If my city is not safe for me to walk in, it isn't my city._ Therefore he must make it safe, not just for him, but for anyone. Something else to do. Always something else.

~ ~ ~

"Welcome back, friends and listeners! This is Belle Weather bringing you the latest news about the Second Battle of Hoover Dam! This segment is brought to you by the Gomorrah. Stop by and check out the new slot machines — when you have nothing left, you've got nothing to lose." A pause. "Was that really what they asked us to say?"

Nobody in Novac paid any attention to the radio. They'd had their own battle against the Legion. Three fanatical squads had been enough to tear up the town and most of its defenders. They had no time for anything but to take care of the wounded and the dead, and see who was left alive.

~ ~ ~

The Legate's head on a stick also had to come along. Everyone acknowledged that Gunnar should carry it through the city gates, but until then they could take turns. This went fine until it came time to decide who got to carry it first. It turned out that a bloodstained, stinking head attracted flies and, of course, smelled awful.

"Tell you what, I'll pay one of you guys to carry it instead of me," Cass said.

"You can't back out now," Boone countered. "You get to carry it partway just like us."

"I'll carry it first," Raul said. "It'll stink worse when the sun warms it."

"You don't even have a nose," Cass said. "How do you smell?"

"As bad as always," Gunnar said, prompting actual guffaws from Boone, who had apparently never heard that old joke.


	13. Viva Las Vegas

The junior Chairman skidded to a stop in the Tops lobby. "They're in sight!" he panted. "The Ponix and Securitrons! He's in power armor!"

"How'd you know it's him?" Swank asked.

"It's got that red bird painted on it," the Chairman said, still winded. "And he's approaching the city!"

"Joey! Peter! Run tell the Omertas and the White Gloves," Swank said. "It's time!"

~ ~ ~

"Looks like everyone turned out to meet you," Boone said, looking through the scope of his rifle. "People are even outside the walls."

"Hail the conquering hero," Gunnar said. He just wanted to get home, but he also understood the need for theater, for looking the part. God, he could use some real coffee and a long sleep. He twitched at the sudden memory of entering the Vault all those months — years — ago. The faster he got through the crowds with a good face, the faster he could rest. "Let me have the head. How's it holding up?"

"Could be better," Cass said. "But it should stay on the stick long enough. What're you going to do with it afterward?"

"I don't know," Gunnar said tiredly. Yet another decision to make. "We'll figure it out when we get home."

~ ~ ~

"Good afternoon, listeners! This is Riley Salt, bringing you live radio coverage of the return of our beloved Ponix, Gunnar Volk, fresh from the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. The Ponix is attended by a ghoul plus two people, a man and a woman, and a host of Securitrons. I can see the red bird symbol on his armor, the symbol of the Ponix and the rebirth of New Vegas.

"The Ponix is carrying the head of Legate Lanius on a javelin — I'm sure he captured that javelin from a Legion officer personally — and here he comes now, striding in power armor toward the main gate. You can hear the crowd nearby, they're thrilled to have their hero back in the city once again. I think just about everyone must feel this way, except of course for those who might feel threatened by Ponix Volk's promises of equality and prosperity. 

"He's now arriving at the gate — the Securitrons there are greeting him deferentially — the gates are opening. Meeting him are — let's see — yes, it's Lady Marjorie of the White Gloves; the King; one of the Followers, I believe it's Julie Farkas? Yes, it is. There's the new Chairman of the Board, Swank, and next to him is Don Cachino of the Omertas. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has turned out today to see the victorious Ponix. 

"The Securitrons are pressed to keep the crowd back — everyone is cheering, I can't imagine how the most important people in New Vegas can hear themselves think! It's a great day for the city and it may well become a new Independence Day for all in the Mojave."

~ ~ ~

"I don't know how much more I can do this," Gunnar said, still smiling and barely moving his lips as he waved at the crowd. He wasn't worried about the masses of people hearing him, but he'd removed the helmet upon reaching the city, so they'd know it was really him. Boone swore someone would try to headshot him, but Gunnar felt he had to take the risk.

He was also exhausted, tired of glad-handing everyone, of saying what he hoped were the right things, and he really hoped nobody expected a speech from the Ponix today.

"Almost home," Cass reminded him. "I expected your boyfriend to be here by now, though."

Gunnar had hoped, but not expected, to see Arcade. Assuming Arcade could take time away from being a doctor, he was probably being reasonable: they couldn't afford to both be out here together until they knew what the risks were. Risks! Ha, here Gunnar had just decided on not wearing a helmet while exposing himself to teeming and generally filthy throngs of people, some of whom might try to shoot him.

He recognized someone in the crowd and made sure to wave to them. Chopper began bouncing up and down like an excited puppy, but it looked like Iris was in a good mood and unlikely to snap at him. Even Eddie and Baldy looked happy at being noticed by the Ponix. Hell, they'd saved his life. They could brag about this for the rest of theirs. _I knew him back when he was just a courier —_

~ ~ ~

"Listeners, the Ponix has stopped at the gates to the Las Vegas Strip. Those of you at home, I wish you could see this, it's an amazing sight, all the people of New Vegas and many from outside the city, all come to welcome home Ponix Volk from his amazing victory at Hoover Dam over not one, but two armies. I can't think of anything else like it in history. 

"The Ponix has stopped now — there's a platform and the various heads of Families, tribes and gangs are all there. Ponix Volk is going to make a speech. Give us just a moment and we'll tap into the broadcast so you can hear his words directly."

~ ~ ~

Gunnar reviewed the sea of faces before him. Many of them were happy. A few were cautious, and he couldn't blame them. He'd won the war, but could he keep the peace?

There was a real radio setup here, on the table, with a microphone and everything. A man who'd quickly introduced himself as being with Radio New Vegas gave him the thumbs-up: they were on the air.

Gunnar took a deep breath. Make a speech, keep it short, keep it snappy, try not to fall over or say something embarrassing.

~ ~ ~

"My fellow citizens. Yes, all of you — we are all citizens of New Vegas today, all sharing in the hard-won victory. There's work to do, and rebuilding to begin, and many new plans I'd like to introduce in time.

"My fellow citizens — human and ghoul, raider and soldier, trader and farmer, all of us — we are all people, aren't we? We all deserve this victory today. Without your support, I could not be here. Without the support of my friends, the many communities in the city and in the Mojave, I could not have succeeded today. 

"I am the Ponix of New Vegas. This city will be reborn, better and more prosperous than before. There will be more opportunities, better ones, for those willing to take that chance. 

"We have fought hard for this peace. New Vegas was once known as the City of Second Chances. This is our second chance. Let's make the most of it."

~ ~ ~

Gunnar and friends got a full escort to the Lucky 38, not just of Securitrons, but happy, cheering citizens. Even the normally too-dignified-for-this White Gloves joined in. Gunnar would've thought it funnier if he didn't wish for peace and quiet right now. 

He waved goodbye to the crowd, and again, and a third time before he could finally disappear into the 38. The doors shut behind him, and his ears rang with near-silence. He let his eyes adjust to the dim light; no point keeping the lights on when nobody was home, after all. 

"We did it," Boone said, and he sounded astonished.

"We sure did!" Cass was more upbeat but also tired. "We did it. _You_ did it, Gunner Folk." She clapped him on the armored shoulder. "Do I get access to the booze palace upstairs now?"

"Sure." Gunnar maneuvered the armor to one side and triggered the release so he could step out of it. He stumbled and one knee went out from under him, but Raul and Boone caught him.

"Good thing you didn't do that on stage, boss," Raul said.

"Yeah. I'm going to sleep for a while. If someone can tell Arcade I'm back?" Gunnar asked.

"If he doesn't know by now," Cass began.

"Yeah. Okay. Just…"

"We'll take care of it," Boone said. "He's probably on his way over now."

Gunnar hoped so, as they took the elevator up. The other three left on the suite floor; Gunnar continued to the penthouse. 

Once inside, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and not be conscious for as long as possible, but there was always something else he had to do first. Gunnar held to the handrail as he walked down the spiral stairs to Yes Man's console.

"I'm here," he said to the smiling face before him.

"You did great!" Yes Man enthused. "You're going to be the best ruler New Vegas has ever seen! And I'm not just saying that because you're only the second one!"

"Thank you," Gunnar said. "Can you set the security so only Arcade and I can get into the penthouse for now? I'm going to sleep soon, but I wanted to talk to you before that happens, so you'd know I'm here."

"Of course I knew you were here! I watched the whole thing through the Securitrons!" Yes Man said happily. "That was a good speech! I recorded it so you can watch it yourself later!"

"Thank you," Gunnar said again.

"And you came right back, like you promised!" Yes Man continued. "But you do keep your promises, so I had nothing to worry about!"

"And you're coming back too, aren't you?" Gunnar asked.

"I'm not really leaving! I'm just going offline while I work on my code! It's sort of self-surgery!"

"I hope it goes very well for you," Gunnar said. "The Securitrons will be okay?"

"They sure will! They'll be under your direct command from here! Which may take some getting used to! So you'll want to practice with them before a real emergency happens! Meanwhile I downloaded all the data you need about running things, so you can look at it yourself while I’m away!"

"Fair enough. I'll see you again soon, I hope."

"Me too! Have a good sleep, Dr. Volk!"

"You too, Yes Man."

~ ~ ~

Now to sleep... except he was filthy... and he should shower... but, oh, Jesu-Maria, he didn't know if he could do that. If he had the energy for it, or even the willpower.

Gunnar walked slowly back up the stairs. _The Emperor was known by many titles, including the Lonely One._ How had Mr. House done it? Well, he hadn't gotten involved with other humans in centuries, from the sound of it. Just his robot slaves who did whatever he said and never thought to do otherwise. _Power corrupts._ And knowledge is power. He wasn't making sense any more. Not to mention he was stumbling with fatigue, and if he slipped and hit his head in the shower, he could die up here.

But he didn't want to get the bed dirty.

Gunnar stripped off the clothes, stained with blood and sweat and dirt, and left them in a pile on the floor. He took the blanket from the bed, remote-closed the blinds, and went to sleep on the couch.

~ ~ ~

Arcade finished his round of patients. At least that had slacked off, as the NCR left, and anyone still mobile went to see the the triumphant return of the Ponix. _Hail Ponix!_ he thought. By tomorrow the red bird might well be the new symbol of the city.

It had been a good speech, though. Short, to the point, mention the people so they think they're just as important as the ones in charge. Arcade had listened on the radio. He couldn't avoid it if he'd wanted to, all of the few stations ran it. The news would spread far and wide. Not just to California, where they'd lick their wounds and plot revenge, nor to the East where the Legion must choose whether to stay on its side of the nebulous border or continue its raiding.

No, the word would spread elsewhere, maybe even - wait, hadn't Gunnar said once something about his people to the north? Well, maybe they'd heard of it too. Who knew what might happen?

He walked out of the crowded Old Mormon Fort. It was growing dark, the city lights glaring above the ruins, and the city itself still had a party atmosphere. That in turn meant more patients at the Fort later, he thought; probably for days to come. He was glad of the celebration, of course, but knew better than to think one victory would mean "and everything was fine, ever afterward".

Try to put those thoughts away, he told himself. Gunnar was alive, apparently fine, and now they could see each other again. The Securitrons would keep order for tonight and tomorrow. 

The crowds on the Strip were definitely celebrating; Arcade dodged traders and drunks and happy people alike and made it to the 38, which had a crowd of... supplicants, he supposed, people wanting the Ponix to solve their specific problem, or give them money, or both. The 38 needed a better way in, he thought, and remembered the way they'd snuck out before.

He made it in, unchallenged by Yes Man, which, now that he thought about it, wasn't good. Yes Man was supposed to be watching the entire place. Was he no longer paying attention to the 'secret' entrance?

Arcade found the power armor on the casino floor. He frowned when he saw the damage. And where was the helmet? But it meant Gunnar had returned this far. So he was probably in the penthouse. Arcade allowed himself that fantasy with the black silk pajamas: _Hello, Ponix of the Wasteland._ Maybe now there would be time to make it a reality.

~ ~ ~

The penthouse was dark and silent. Arcade stood inside the doors, listening. He could hear the hum of Yes Man's console noise, downstairs; and at least one Securitron on the lower level. Maybe the Ponix was already asleep in bed.

No. Not there either. Arcade hadn't expected flower petals and fanfare, but where the hell was Gunnar? Somewhere else in the building?

Yes Man ought to know. It would save time. Arcade knew the layout of the place, but still moved carefully in the dark - you never knew when something had been moved. He passed the couch, heard something, and stopped to investigate.

Why was Gunnar sleeping on the couch?.

Arcade just watched and listened for a while. Gunnar was deep asleep, from the sound of his breathing, so he'd been here a while. But why? Waiting for Arcade? That didn't make any sense.

Then again, sometimes Gunnar didn't make any sense anyway.

"Oh, Ponix of the Wasteland," Arcade murmured. "Let's get you to bed where you belong."

He was able to rouse Gunnar to where the latter could stumble with support back to the bed, and Arcade suspected Gunnar never woke up through the whole thing. 

~ ~ ~

Gunnar woke in his bed, alone, and wondered how he'd got there. He was fairly certain he hadn't started there; but a sleep full of nightmares had probably woken him and so it had happened.

He still felt exhausted, mentally and physically, and thought of telling Yes Man to just take over for — but no, Yes Man was on vacation, or personal enrichment, or something, and that was that. Arcade wasn't back yet, he was probably still busy (or sleeping) at the Fort. Gunnar would have to send a message that it was okay to come back. _Please come home, all is forgiven,_ he thought. Nothing to forgive, though.

He stumbled into the bathroom and stood in the shower for a while as the water heated up. Too stupefied to do much, he considered himself at this moment. But at last he got the sliver of soap and slowly washed up. Maybe he'd just get right back into bed after the shower, except now he was aware of hunger. The body wants to live even when the mind needs to check out, he thought. So be it. He'd eat and then go back to bed. 

He should check in on the city, he thought, scrubbing his face. Make sure everything was fine. He felt cut off now; Yes Man had been his good right hand, helping him navigate the waters. _Thanks, Benny,_ Gunnar thought. Benny had set the whole thing up; probably for himself, let's face it, but just in case… _I’m still not naming a street or someone's first-born child after you, Benny._ Trying to save Vegas was one thing; shooting Gunnar in the head quite another. 

When he finally felt clean enough, Gunnar dried off and dressed, and wondered where everyone else was, too. Probably letting him sleep in. Good. He needed it. What time was it, anyway? He squinted at the Pipboy; the lights were still off in the penthouse, but the neon outside lit up the windows.

Almost nine o'clock. He could still get something to eat, figure out what to do next… 

He took the elevator to the suite level. Now he really would need to bring in Marilyn and Jane as secretaries or assistants — they wouldn't need sleep and he hoped they already understood what was needed.

Cass stood in the lobby on the suite level. "Hey there!" She made dual finger-guns at him.

"Cass. Hi. I thought you'd be in the lounge." He'd given her access to it, hadn't he? He couldn't remember. 

"No, I've got a party to go to. You've been missing out, Ponix. No, nothing bad, don't worry." She made no move to leave. "People are just glad the war's over, you know?"

"It was a short war."

"With a long buildup. And the Legion will take at least a few years to try again, if they do. The NCR, this'll look terrible back home."

"Let the desert people fight it out themselves," Gunnar murmured.

"What?"

Gunnar shook his head. "History."

Sooner or later, someone would come back to the desert, for the electricity and promise of Hoover Dam. Mr. House had bought time for the region, but not peace. He hadn't cared whether the people were raided and killed, only that the money kept flowing in so he could achieve his eventual dream.

 _And your dream, Dr. Volk? Eternal peace isn't possible._ No, it wasn't, it never was. But peace for a time was possible, enough to build defenses and maybe an army, and promote learning. The old world was gone and he couldn't bring it back, but maybe he could kindle a new and better world from its ashes.

"Hey, don't look so gloomy," Cass said, startling him from his thoughts. "Or was that another memory thing?"

"No, just thinking."

"Then think about something to eat. C'mon." She took his arm and steered him toward the kitchen.

"I thought you had a party to go to?" Gunnar asked.

"I do." She opened the door and Gunnar blinked at the cheers of _Surprise!_ inside. "And so do you," Cass added, pushing him forward. 

~ ~ ~

Gunnar wandered his own celebratory party in a daze. Mama Ria and her daughter talked in Spanish with Raul. Michael, the signmaker from Vault 22 - how'd they ever get him over here? Probably blindfolded, Gunnar thought, considering the man's severe agoraphobia. Betty from the Gomorrah. None of the movers and shakers, but people Gunnar had met during the past few months, and his friends too.

He blinked several times and pressed his fingertips to just below his eyes. Tears of gratitude might be misinterpreted right now. 

Someone handed him a bottle of water; he noted everyone else had beer or something harder, but that was fine. He could always call on his robot bouncers to toss out the drunks, he thought, and he knew he was still not back to his old self. 

Gunnar took a long drink of water and ate two tamales while the party moved around him. A party was nice, and it was good to be appreciated, and he didn't begrudge them for it. He could eat and do the necessary socializing, and - 

"You did it," Julie Farkas said, interrupting his thoughts. She sat next to him with a plate of food.

"Julie. Good to see you," Gunnar said. "You were able to get away from the Fort for a while?" They hadn’t been able to talk when he’d first returned to the city.

"A while," she agreed. "We're swamped there, but I got the invitation and figured I could spare an hour or two. You're the leader of the city now, so what's the next step?"

"After the party? I need rest. I'll also delegate work where I can, and start to get this city back on its feet. It'll take time. What do the Followers need from me?"

"Medical supplies. More hands. More room. More everything," Julie said. "And I don't know how much of that you can fix."

"Was it very bad, during the battle?" Gunnar asked. 

Julie shrugged.

They talked about Gunnar's plans, Julie making suggestions and questions, and how long it might take, and what should be undertaken first. It was a good way to pass the time here, even if Gunnar had to greet guests now and then.

He thanked Raul for the armor piercing bullets, which had proved so useful in that last fight, and Veronica congratulated him on learning how to use that power glove — "See? I knew you'd take to it! It really helps, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. So you're one of the Followers now?" Gunnar didn't want to think about punching anyone, ever again.

"Yeah, looks like. I got to help out defending the Fort, so they agreed I'm better off as a guard than as medical personnel."

Gunnar wanted to ask her where Arcade was, but Cass interrupted him then, congratulating him on "defeating three armies. Nobody'll disrespect a history teacher now!"

Three? The NCR, the Legion, who was the third? Gunnar rubbed his temples. When it came down to it, if he didn't look at the Pipboy, he had no idea what the date was. _Growing old before my time,_ he thought. He and Arcade were the same, in actual age.

_Wait a minute —_

The last Gunnar remembered, he'd set the security to only allow himself and his friends and Arcade in the Lucky 38. So how was there a party with all these guests in here, now?

Gunnar found Boone by the door, watching the party. "Craig — how'd all these people get in here?" He half expected a snarky retort, like "They walked." Raul might've said that. 

But Boone didn't. "Everything's fine," he said. "The robots have orders, they're guarding exits and the elevator and nobody can leave this room unless they're leaving the building. Gannon set it all up."

"Arcade's here?" Gunnar had rarely felt an instance where he might say his heart genuinely leapt, but this was one of those times.

"Yeah. I figured this was because you love this kind of thing."

"Usually I know beforehand they're going to happen," Gunnar said. "I think this is the first surprise party I've ever had." At least he wasn't in his pajamas. That would've been awkward. "So where is he?"

Boone shrugged. "Somewhere in the building."

But not here at the party. Gunnar had spoken to everyone here at least once; he could excuse himself, he thought. "Are you security, or are you supposed to enjoy the party?" he asked Boone.

"I don't trust the robots to know when something's not right," the sniper said. "So I'm keeping an eye on things."

"Okay. I'm going to look for Arcade." He should be a better host than that, but he hadn't planned this party, and anyway —

"Sure. It's your tower."

"Ponix Volk!" It was the signmaker, Michael. "Is it true you'll rename the Lucky 38?"

"Yes," Gunnar said, though he hadn't even thought of it before now. "There'll be an official announcement in due time." 

That should keep things buzzing on the street, he thought, not to mention reports that everyday people were allowed into the 38 to schmooze with the Ponix himself. Not a bad idea, he thought. _Thanks, Arcade._ It still would have been nice to know ahead of time, though.

Gunnar made a few goodbyes and took the elevator back to the penthouse. Arcade was back, the war was over, the hard work was ahead — but they were alive, weren't they? He and his friends were alive, and for now the city was, too, and he wasn't alone in facing the work ahead.

He opened the door to the penthouse.

"Well, _hello,_ Ponix of the Wasteland."

Gunnar smiled, and entered the room, and closed the door behind him.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Now you can start again from the beginning and look for Easter eggs and foreshadowing ;) I love all the comments I've received, and it's perfectly okay to leave some no matter when you're reading this.
> 
> Gunnar Volk has become one of my favorite characters to write for, and I am puttering around with a sequel, especially on [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/Laridian) and [my fic community on Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/community/Pandemia). 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I have!


End file.
